


Nights and Mornings

by arleynamadrowix



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, Gen, bosmer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-26 18:58:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3861034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arleynamadrowix/pseuds/arleynamadrowix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of the Brotherhood with a different outcome.<br/>This fic is NOT about romantic relationship with Lachance. The name of each chaprter is its soundtrack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Opus Of The Black Sun

**Amorphous Androgynous - Opus Of the Black Sun**

 

It was dark and cold. My eyes were shut tight. The world was spinning. The taste in my mouth was worse than any poison. My head was pulsing with dull pain. I could smell inveterate piss and mustiness.

I shivered and reluctantly opened my eyes.

_Yes. Just as I thought. Marvellous. Fuck._

Getting locked up in the Imperial Prison was the last of my desires.

I stretched, trying not to throw up. A mucky voice reached me somewhere from the right. The sound of it felt like a lead hammer to my poor ears.

"Ha, awoke, at last! Well now, a pretty little Wood Elf. You're a little far from the forest, huh?" I looked around. There was a moth eaten straw mattress, a table, and a crock in my cell.  _Water!_  Seemed like my mind was able to produce only short and simple sentences at that moment. But, alas, the crock was empty. "Looks like your days of woodland frolicking have come to a tragic end!"

I sighed and rubbed my temples trying to concentrate and still pain between them. I noticed a Dunmer in the cell across the corridor. "What?" My mouth was dry and I could scarcely stir my tongue.

"Are you deaf, dearie?" He was scanty and vomicose. "Deaf and unlucky, I see now. Not as lucky as the fella from that cell!" The Dunmer pointed to the cell to the right of me and started giggling hysterically.  _Lunatic?_  His voice became louder, "That one, oh, he was important! Left the prison with the Emperor himself, Divines bless his soul!" He grabbed the bars of the door of his cell, shoved his head between them and continued, eyes wide, "But you are just like me, just like me!"  _Lunatic._ "You, dear little Valenwood wench, will go mad pretty soon, and the guards will cut your throat just to stop the ranting. That's right. You're going to die in here, Wood Elf! Die! Rot, like one of the leaves in your precious forests!"

"Oh, fuck you," I snapped.

"Hey, you hear that? The guards are coming… for you!" The Dunmer made a chocking sound and released the bars.

A guard came, indeed. A youngster, no older then me, with ridiculous tiny ginger moustache.

"Sod! How awful to see you, pathetic scrib!" the Dunmer clenched the bars once again and started to yank them repeatedly. "I asked for a hussy, so why did you put her in the different room, huh?! Answer me!"

_Oh, I have never felt more welcome._

"Shut it, Valen!" Sod jabbed Dunmer's hands with a torch. Valen howled and whisked off to the stony wall spitting curses. I wondered if the young guard was a dick or Valen really had it coming.  _Probably both._ Paying no attention to Dunmer's cussing Sod approached my cell.

"How are you feeling, booze hag?" He put the torch to an empty cradle, sat on a small stool and put out a quill, an inkwell, and a piece of parchment from a small bag on his belt.

"Booze hag? At least I'm not named Sod!"

"I'm Sodius." He said irritatingly.

"Nice to know. And I almost thought your parents had a  _sodden_  sense of humor."

He gave me a steely glance.

"Listen, lady, do you have any idea why are you here?"

"Enlighten me." I really had none.

"You started a drunken brawl in The 'Foaming Flask' _…_ "

_Where is it?_

"… Broke Ernest Manis' nose …"

_Who is he?_

"… And nearly set the place on fire."

"Look, I know I'm almighty as Akatosh himself, but I doubt..."

"It is called 'drunken debauchery'," he interrupted me, "and you will stay here for a week or two. We have searched through your belongings and found nothing about your identity. So now it's your turn to enlighten me. Name?"

"Brook." I blurted the first thing had come to my mind. It was my sister's nickname. Sod wrote it.

"Just Brook? Any surname?"

"Mally!" A hangover was not the best time to make up any names or surnames.

"Race?"

"Argonian."

"You're not an Argonian."

"And you're not blind. Oh, you are?" I gasped. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean any disrespect."

Sod didn't appreciate my attempts.

"Age?"

I've always looked younger then I really was.  _Maybe guards will take a pity on me, if they think I'm just a child?_

"Fifteen." Fifteen my ass. Twenty one, in fact.

“You don’t look fifteen. Eh, but whatever,” he scratched my age on the parchment and spat on the dungeon floor. “So young and so impudent? Where are your parents?”

“Dead.” _Gods, I hope not._

“Well then, Brook Mally, considering your age we can’t keep you here.”  _Hurray!_ “We will send you to an orphanage.”

“Oh, but you can’t! I have a contagious disease. Look!” I showed him my wrist with a cluster of small scars. I fell to a rockfill several years ago. “Timber smallpox!”  _Does this illness even exist?_

“Get her away from me!” Valen gave a voice.

“I have more!” I started to peel off my pants.

“Enough!” Sod put writing implements back into his bag and stood up. “Wait here for our decision.” And he left the dungeon.

_Well, fuck._

Valen began to babble something. Now when my mind was more or less clear (however, a glass of water wouldn’t hurt) I was able to take a proper look at this rotten hole. The dungeon itself was rather spacious, with a wide corridor and cells on both sides. Strange, but it seemed like me and Valen were the only prisoners here. Although I didn’t have time to wonder about it, because Sod returned, this time with another guard.

“ … And, Sodius, I told you I don’t care! She could have all fatal diseases in Nirn, she's out of our jurisdiction unless she’s at least sixteen. They have healers there.” A tall Nord woman with a tired expression on her face showed up. “There you are, damsel. Pack up and shove off.” She opened the door. “Sod, she’s within your responsibility, since you’ve started all this.”

“Yeah, Sodius. Brook out!” I saluted him and left the cell. “Bye-bye, whatsyourname... Valen.”

“I’ll see you here again, wench!”  _Sure._

As we walked along the corridor, I saw that one wall of the ‘important prisoner’s’ cell was shattered to pieces.

After going through a small maze of drafty tunnels and several short staircases we came to some sort of storage, a room filled with crates of all sizes. The woman opened one of them, took out my knapsack and my bow with a loose string. I was about to check if anything was stolen, but Sod interrupted me.

“You’ll be doing it later, smallpox.” He almost grabbed my shoulder, but stopped abruptly. I snicked. “You see, commander, she’s coughing! I’m not going anywhere near her!” I snicked again, this time from the panic in his voice.

“Are you disobeying the order, young man?”

Sod went pale, “Negative.”

“Good. Now out of my sight!” The woman give him a roll of paper and waved her hand, as if she was flapping flies away. Sod warily tied my hands, took my things, and swiftly lead me out of the building.

“Follow me, smallpox.”

The blast of wind cooled my head. I checked the knots around my wrists. They were barely fasten up. Who knew a pile of gravel would be of such use to me? We crossed the bridge, walked through the Market District and entered the Elven Gardens.

“Why on Nirn did they forbid using horses inside the city?” muttered Sod.

“So that you had something to whine about.” A hour was more than enough to untangle this poor parody of manacles around my hands.

“Shut up, smallpox.”

But I agreed with him. The Imperial City was the biggest city in the province, yet everyone was obliged to move on feet here. Well apart from the Emperor and his family. And some muck-a-mucks who managed to get a licence.

The Elven Gardens was the place my plan came to force. Luckily for me, Sod decided to take a short path away from wide streets and squares. We were walking past some hen house when I tugged the rope, doubled up, and started to cough.

“Smallpox? Smallpox, come on, get up!” Sod yanked the rope and I fell to the ground, still coughing. “Damn it!” He bent to help me up. When he was close enough, I quitted hold of the rope, knocked Sod on the ground and covered his mouth. He was at least two feet higher then me, but the element of surprise was in my corner.

“Lie still and you will live."

Not that I wanted to kill him. But he didn't need to know about it. I wrestled him down with my knee, quickly tied his hands, and tuck an old sock from my knapsack into his mouth. Then I took out more ropes and tied his legs as well.

Despite his desperate grunting and twisting I managed to drag him to an old shed which, apparently, belonged to a hen house owner.

“Don’t you worry, Sod, they’ll find you. Eventually.” I said and closed the door.

 _Now the whole Imperial Legion is after me. Nice._ I put on a cowl and a belt with a dagger and was on my way as fast as I could.


	2. Use My Body While It´s Still Young

**Rebekka Karijord – Use My Body While It´s Still Young**

 

 

The weather was perfect. There wasn’t a single cloud in the azure sky. I had no idea what to do next, so I bought a meat pie near the Temple and took a meaningless stroll around the City. It was enourmous. Of course, I had heard about its size before, but I had never expected it to be that big. 

Eventually I found myself in the Arboretum. I was walking past the statue of Stendarr when an arguing couple captured my attention. 

"Lili, you can't go against him, how can you not understand that?" A lanky guy was towering over an angry girl around my age.

 "You edentate lamprey!" 

I snotred. The guy overheard it and turned to me.

"You think it's funny?"

"Yeah, I do actually," I looked him up and down and turned to the girl. "You know, I've tried them once, they tasted awf-... Hey!"

And all I could do was take after a kid who was running away, my purse clutched in his hand. He darted towards the Arena, where the crowds of people were thicker. Pushing aside those who I couldn't come round I followed him and was ready to grab him by the scruff of the neck when an Imperial Guard appeared in front of me out of nowhere. I froze on spot not knowing whether to get away myself or cry for help. It gave the little brat enough time to disappear completely. I cursed and began slow way back.

 Almost all my money were in that purse. The Arena would seem like an opportunity to get some gold, but I was bad at gambling and trying to openly kill people who want to kill me seemed stupid.

 "Get your self a copy of The Black Hourse Courier," a stout man stopped me at the gates between the districts and handed a folded paper.

 "Thanks, I'm not interes-... Wait, is it free?"

 "Free of charge, ma'am."

 "Alright, I'll take one, thanks."

 I flopped on the nearest bench. The paper still smelled of ink. So, another fatuous novel is being published, another thief was caught, another nobel prick was accused of cheating... Oh, and the Emperor was dead. _Fucking great._ I opened the page with vacant jobs. A maid, a bodyguard for some expedition, a smith assistant, a poison tester... _Thanks, I'm not that desperate._ I was so deep in my sorrowful thoughts that I almost jumped when I heard:

 "Hey."

 It was the girl I've seen earlier. She sat next to me.

 "Oh, it's you. Watcha need?"

 "I think we can help each other out," she put a curl of straw-colored hair behind her ear. "You're looking for a job, right?" She peeked at the paper over my arm. "No offence, but you look like you're not from around here."

 "Twig, you're good!" I raised my eyebrows.

 "What would you say to working for me, well, not for me, for the Academy, as an attitudinizing sitter?"

 "An Academy? As a what? Now you've lost me."

 "You sit still and we draw you. At the Imperial Academy of Arts," she said in a I-can't-believe-you-don't-know-such-obvious things voice.

 "What's the pay?" I needed money. From the legal sources.  _This is crazy. Undressing in front of total strangers is sure the best way to start living in the big city._

 "I don't know, you'll have to ask Sanctanar about it, but I'm sure it's good. So what? You're in? Please, tell me you're in!" She beamed. "I'm Lilian Venio, by the way."

 "And I can't believe I'm signing up to this," I extended a hand for a shake. "Sarynancy Cougar."

 "You won't regret this!"

 ***

Sanctanar turned out to be a pleasant elderly Atlmer painter, who assigned me to Lilian’s class at the first session. She was ecstatic. At least I was allowed to keep my undies on. Standing still for several hours turned out to be difficult even with my hunting experience of a hider.

 The next to weeks were spent on stripping before artists and bending my body and limbs at all possible angles. Lilian introduced me to her beloved Mantivo (the guy she was fighting with when I first saw them). He was a sculptor at the Academy and very full of himself. I rented a room in an almost decent ostlery, at least there were no bugs. Lilian was a delight to be around, although her rosy disposition was occasionally blended with anger outbreaks.

 It was a warm Fridas evening. I was coming to Lilian’s place for a drinks when I heard a noise from a narrow back alley just near her house. Some sobs and sniffs. I sneaked past the crates that blocked the view and saw Lilian pinned to the wall by some man.

 “Come on, don’t be a bitch and stay put, lass,” he said and smacked her. Lilian whipmered in protest and pain. 

A surge of recognition went through my body. I felt like a drawn string.  _DON’T YOU DARE._  The boiling blinding fury filled me. Without pausing to think I rushed forward. Lilian’s eyes widened when she saw me. My moves were automatic. I unsheathed my dagger and jumped on the man. He tried to scream, but my small blade was faster. It all this happened in less than ten seconds. The man uttered his last gasp and fell on the ground, entraining me.

Memories gushed through my mind. A bandit raid on our village. Fire. Mother shouting me to hide. Fire, fire, fire. A thug breaking into our house and trying to rape her. And me, growling and howling like a wounded beast, killing him the very same way.

“Nance! Nance!” Lilian grabbed my shoulders. Her eyes were red. I was shaking. She helped me to get up. I felt twangs of conscience.

“Oh, Lilian, are you alright?” I hugged her with hands which couldn't stopped trembling.

“Could be worse. Nance, he … ” And she started crying. I patted her on the head and looked around. Seemed like no one had seen us. Some big bird flew above our heads.

“Lilian, honey, the sooner we leave this alley, the better.” The man was lying in a pool of blood.  _Where have I seen his ugly conk?_  I cut his purse so that the killing would look like a robbery, almost cutting myself in process.

“Yes, yes, you’re right.” She sniffled and we quickly got inside the house.

The man’s name was Nikolas Aegismoss. He was an artist of the Emperor’s family and one of the heads of Academy. He threatened Lilian with expulsion unless she wouldn't agree to have sex with him. That’s all I was able to discern through her weeping. I had to end our embrace to make her tea and get her into the bed. Even when she managed to more or less restrain herself, the tears were still running down her face.

“Where did you learn to kill people like that?”

“I did it before.”

What else could I say? I was still recollecting myself.  _How could I forget something that significant? Why my parents have never talked to me about it? How old I was back then? Nine? Ten?_

“Oh, okay.” Thankfully, she didn’t ask any more questions about my ‘skills’.

When she fell asleep, I went downstairs to have a drink. She lived alone at the moment, since her “folks were dancing on the green”, whatever that was supposed to mean. I needed something stronger than tea. Surilie Brothers wine seemed more appropriate. My mother warned me about not drinking alone, or else it could become a habit. Mother.  _I saved her, didn’t I?_

_What else don’t I remember? How many people have I killed in my past?_  However, most likely, this was the only accident.

Unwittingly, after drinking only a goblet of wine, I crumped right at the table. My dreams were filled with fires and stomping. All of a sudden I felt like a freezing, yet very gentle hand grasped my heart. I flinched and woke up.

“You sleep rather soundly for a murderer. That’s good. You’ll need a clear conscience for what I’m about to propose.”


	3. Tomorrow Never Knows

**The Beatles – Tomorrow Never Knows**

The chair fell as I startled and pointed my dagger at an intruder. Groggy, I nearly fell myself. The man didn't budge. He was dressed in a long black cloak, a cowl covered his face.

"Who is Oblivion are you?" I stepped back.

"I am Lucien Lachance, a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood," he said in a very delicate manner. "And you, you are a killer. A taker of life. A harvester of souls." His voice was calm. "Your work, your deathcraft, pleases the Night Mother. And so, I come to you with an offering. An opportunity … to join our rather unique family." It sounded like a memorized speech.

I raise an eyebrow and blinked. "What? Is it some kind of joke?" Really, the nerve of these people. "Did Mantivo send you?" Mantivo was self-appointed king of pranks. "Seriously, man, it's not the best time for your monkey business." I yawned and rubbed my eyes. "You've really gone too far this time. The Dark Brotherhood, no kidding?" The man didn't react to words. I lit a candle, sheathed the dagger and poured wine into my goblet. "Want some?"

"Ah, I find your etiquette refreshing. Thanks, no."

"Suit yourself." I took a pull of Surilie. "Go on, L-whatever, what else can you tell the class? I'm listening." Let the guy go all the way, it would be a shame if he had learnt all this stuff by heart for nothing.

"So, I have your rapt attention. Splendid. Now listen closely. On the Green Road to the north of Bravil lies the Inn of Ill Omen. There you will find a man named Rufio. Kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. Do this, and the next time you sleep in a location I deem secure, I will reveal myself once more, bearing the love of your new family."

"Luke, listen, you can't seriously ask me to kill someone?" I decided to play along. "I'm no murderer."  _But I am._

"No? The Night Mother seems to think otherwise. Allow me to grant you a gift, in case you reconsider." And he took out a dagger from the layers of his cloak. It looked very expensive.  _Yeah, like one of those fake weapons made by propmen in the Academy._ "It is a virgin blade, and thirsts for blood. May it serve you well, as does your causticity. Now, I bid you farewell. I do hope we'll meet again soon." He put the dagger on the table with a barely audible clang.

"Wait, wait, wait!" I wasn't sure if I even should touch it. Gradually, I began to understand it was really too strong to be a prank. And my dagger was ensheathed. And I was drunk.  _Great._  "Look, I had a really rough night, then you broke into my house and now you're handling me this thing. I demand an explanation!"

"What else would you like to now?" He gave a polite smile.  _I want to punch him in the face._

"This Brotherhood of yours. Tell me about it. And whom did I pleased? The Night Mother? Yeah, tell about her, too. And what's wrong with the old man?"

"Such curiosity. Good. Have you not heard of the Dark Brotherhood? Of the remorseless guild of paid assassins and homicidal cutthroats? Join us, and you'll find the Dark Brotherhood to be all that, and so much more. We are, more than anything, a union of like-minded individuals. We kill for profit, for enjoyment, and for the glory of the Dread Father, Sithis. We are family, with bonds forged in blood and death." He gave a pause, as if he was expecting some questions.  _Why does he has to use so many pretentious words?_  "The Night Mother is our Unholy Matron. From her shadowed womb we were born, from her breast we suckle malice and pain. She loves her children, you see."  _What? He's a fanatic._  "Rufio has to die." The man in the black cloak sounded like he was explaining something obvious to a kid. "Know that he is old and weak, and sleeps his days away. You could kill him before he even has a chance to wake. If you so choose. And now I shall be leaving."

And the shady figure soundlessly left the house, melting in the shadows. The freezing grasp released my heart. I was just sitting numb, like a dummy, listening attentively to the sounds of night and staring in front of me. A raven croaked somewhere. I slapped a mosquito on my shoulder.

_WHAT?_ I tentatively poked the dagger. It looked too realistic and posh to be used in some dumb prank.  _Holy moley, the Dark Brotherhood! By the Nine!_  I thought they were just some paranoia fantasy.  _They say that when you murder someone, the Dark Brotherhood comes to you in your sleep. It’s how they recruit new members._ My head was buzzing with thoughts. This is not what just happened. It's impossible.

I poured myself more wine and got on the sofa. But killing that man felt _nice_. It was so easy. So simple. And not that person doesn't exist. Sure, he was an asshole, but still... Well, one less asshole in the world. The tiredness was gone, but eventually wine took its tool and I dozed off.

The next day Lilian decided to stay home all day long, trying to cope with the yesterday accident. I told her nothing of my night guest and the following events of the night and asked Mantivo to go to her. I had other business to attend to.

In the following days I read everything about the Brotherhood I could get my hands on. Most texts contradicted each other and were written by the skooma addicts. I knew I should’ve asked more of that man in the black cloak. It was very irritating that I forgot his name.

The more I was thinking about it, the less deranged the idea of killing poor Rufio seemed.  _There will be no turning back._ I can’t decide my and someone else’s fates out of sheer boredom, can I? Could I still stay in touch with my family and Lilian here? Not that I was too close with any of them, but I wouldn’t like to lose them. And if I’m so bored, maybe I should try the Fighters Guild? Or even the lately gathering steam Blackwood Company? Pshaw, I’m no warrior. I woudn’t stand a day there. But the Dark Brotherhood? Now this seemed tempting. Besides, agreeing to join the paltry Fighters Guild, when you’re noticed by the Brotherhood themselves, looked pointless to me. Even invoking the Brotherhood was out of the law, but being in one… That seemed perilous  _and_ tempting in the same time, like it happens with almost every forbidden thing. Even though most of the people irked me, I didn’t hate them in general.

Maybe it was a sign?  _Indeed, a sign meaning I have to go and slay innocent people._ Were they really innocent? These poor men and women, girls and boys of every race and age must have done something really hefty to piss off someone who has enough money to hire a Dark Brother or Sister. And those words… What was his name? Lucan? Looseen? Oh, whatever. He said I was chosen by the Night Mother or something. I bet he says this crap every time he’s trying to recruit someone. How often does he do it? How often does he get the consent? He was chosen one day, too, and look at him now: seeking quasi- recruits, such as myself, and slathering sumptuous daggers at drunk strangers. I bet he’s just  _delighted_  by his job. I even felt pity for him for some moments.

Being visited by the Brotherhood made me somehow sublime in my imagining. I really doubt that they propose joining to every lousy cutthroat. Maybe that man in black cloak was, indeed, a fate-bringer?

After several days of showdown of yearning and self-depreciation I set my mind at rest. I was flurried by the major verdict and decided it would be better not to tell the truth to Lilian. I made up a story about the letter from my family calling me home. If only I knew how prophetic my words were.


	4. Jerk It Out

**Caesars – Jerk It Out**

 

The last day in the blasted City. Finally. I liked the Imperial City fine enough, but all the stony walls and loud crowds really took their toll on someone who spent most of the life in open spaces and small villages.

The last day was devoted to the last minute last preparations. I needed some new gear and supplies, like good marching boots, bowstrings, or ingredients. For poisons, for instance. Oh yes. The past month seemed to be the most educative time in my life. I knew a little alchemy, just some basics my uncle, Julianos bless his soul, had taught me. Of course, one month was not enough to become a professional, but I tried my best. Nightshade, lotus, buttercup, peony seeds - it appeared that the poison was, in a varying degree, almost everywhere around. One just need to know where to look and what to do with the ingredients.

My knapsack was already filled with all kinds of useful shit and I still had several places to spend my money at. The wind was baying clouds which were about to spill rain, but were dragged away before they could tear a single drop. I was walking through the labyrinth of cobbled streets, slightly jumping with every step in tune with a song that had got stuck in my head.  _In the merry month of Hand..._  My humming was interrupted with an exclamation: "That's her!"

A group of men that were just fiddling about the gates to someone's garden now was approaching me. An Altmer, a Bosmer, a Dunmer and an Orsimer.  _What's this? A mere gang?_ Ah, how I love all these sarcastics that seem funny only to me. I have flawless humor.

"So a bird told me you were hanging out near the Temple about a month ago." The Dunmer said. He was idly swinging spiky bolas.  _Oh goblin's dung. Somebody saw me._ Meanwhile the other stood around me. 

"Did you happen to see a Dunmer guy? You know, with a mohawk?" The Altmer waved over his head as in an attempt to explain what a mohawk is.

The Bosmer was to the left of me. "He was a buddy of ours. Now he's dead."

"Any chance you know why, Arena champ?" And the Orsimer took place behind.

 _How much time did the rehearsal of this dramatics took?_ I was standing motionlessly and trying to keep my face from smiling. You know, that kind of stupid smile that pops up in the most unsuitable situations.  _Why should it happen on the day of my depart? Rufio is still breathing, while I'm here with you skunks._ Four of them against me. I didn't stand a chance.  _Run._

"Answer us, Arena champ, please."

 _I have to do something. How on Nirn did they know about the Arena? I have to break through them. Think, idiot, think. Oh, I got it. Meg came up with this once. Meg, sweetheart, you keep helping me even from your grave._ She once told me about a woman who was about to be raped and she yelled something like "Long live the Emperor!", and her raper was so shocked he left her alone. It was quite crazy, but worth trying. Besides, I couldn't think of anything more sensible at that moment.

I slowly raised my arms and started to twirl in some sort of delirious dance, clapping hands and shrilling at the top of my voice:

"In the merry month of Hand  
From my home I started,  
Left the boys of Haven  
Nearly broken hearted,  
Saluted father dear  
Kissed my darlin' mother..."

A window above us opened and I heard an angry female voice:

"Shut up your hole or else I'll empty my pot on ya!"

Using the commotion created by my absolutely brilliant singing featuring Angry Woman From The Second Floor I threw myself at the Dunmer, swept him off feet and made for main street of the Market. Swearing and shouting, the gang followed me. My knapsack was hitting my back. It was pretty heavy. Up the street, turn right, now left, and I managed to knock down a stack of crates. Actually, no. I bumbed into them. But they decided to fall properly like good crates they are. Thank you, crates.

On the last on the curve I collided into a group of matrons. Someone from the gang rammed into me and yanked a lock of my hair along with my left ear, ripping them both almost off. I hollowed in pain. Fortunately, Imperial Legion guards noticed us.

"Help!" That's all I was able to squeak.  _My ear! My ear! Where is my ear?!_ I fitfully checked the left side of my head with trembling hands. My hair was wet and sticky with blood and my ear, well, it had seen better days. Attached to the scull with a strip of skin, it nearly fell into my hands. I leaned over the nearest wall and tried to catch my breath and not to puke. I don't want to sound whiny, but, actually, a tiny part of me was hoping for outside assistance. All I got was some whinging old beggar. But she was no help and her lamentations were quite jarring. I dragged myself to the Healing Hand, an apothecary next to the Rindir's Staffs, sobbing and smearing bloody snot.  _Maybe having short and round ears is not so bad after all._

Fortunately, the apothecary was empty. A Khajiit man, the healer, said nothing when he saw me, just gave a quick look and waved to follow him into the back-room. There he washed away the blood, sterilized the wound (I gritted my teeth to refrain from more crying) and cut the hair around the ear.  _Great, now I'm bald._ He didn't ask me any questions, simply did what needed to be done. I liked that. And the next second he asked me a question:

"Quick or slow?"

"Come again?"

"The speed of healing. Quick or slow?"

"Quick, I guess."  _Chances are Luke already has assigned someone else to eliminate Rufio. It's been a month, I can't waste any more time._ I gave up on my efforts to remember his name and decided to call him Luke.

The healer twitched his ears. I suppose it meant "Fine." or something like that. After some quarrying in the bookcase he dug out a scroll with a recipe. The process of making a medicine didn't take much time, he just blended several pulvis, added water (at least it looked like water) and warmed it up with a fire spell. The khajiit checked how the light shined through the potion and approached me.

"Now sit still. It's going to pinch a little,"  

"Uh-huh," I mumbled. The healer carefully moved aside the hair, poured the medicine on the wound and pressed the ear against my scull. Right until that moment I had been thinking that pain of your ear almost torn off is the this was rock bottom. But this time I practically blacked out. When I got rid of stars before my eyes, my head was already bandaged.

"PINCH A LITTLE?!" 

"A trade secret." The khajiit gave me a proud grin. "Don't worry, cub. You asked for quick, I gave you quick." His voice sounded like a patter of tiny clawed paws. "Take off the bandages tomorrow. One hundred fifty septims." That was almost all I had, but I had to accept it. I have always hated to haggle. First of all, I had no idea how to it. Ask for a smaller price? Not that I was exactly rich myself, but the thought of appearing poor seemed very pesky to me.

"How long the slow one takes, then?" I asked counting the coins.

"A week." The door of the apothecary opened. "You must excuse me," the healer hurried off to meet another client.  _A trade secret, is it? Well, no more._  I quickly slipped the scroll into my inside pocket.

The Khajiit was busy exploring some old Redguard woman's eye. Her features seemed familiar.

" ... not the big deal, I think. It was just a metal rasping." She explained to him.

"I left the money on the table. Thanks," I said and the healer nodded in response.

I felt a little guilty for stealing the recipe, but all in all I owed him nothing. I mean, I payed him, didn't I? And payed a lot. You could buy a fine sword for that kind of money. Marching boots and void salts would have to wait.

The Ill Omen Inn couldn't be found on any decent map and "on the Green Road to the north of Bravil" was clearly not enough. Depending on the weather, the way from the Imperial City to Bravil could take from three to five weeks if you go on foot. Cyrodiil is a big country, after all. Perhaps the clarification of the exact place was a part of initiation test. During the month of taking a decision I spent several days asking around taverns and hash houses about the worst or most ridiculous inns' names. I thought it was some genius "sneaky" manner of information gathering, but after a while I realized that asking innholders, the main resource of rumors, was really foolish. But the things I've discovered! Goblin's Arse. Malty Rotsucker. Anu's Break. Well Smack My Volcano And Call Me Ayem. Finally I was rewarded with the location. I had no wish of spending about two weeks of all-day walking just to kill an old man. Now the only thing that stood between Rufio and me was the absence of a horse.


	5. Nobody But Me

**The Human Beinz – Nobody But Me**

 

Rumor was that there's no way to buy a horse at Chestnut Handy Stables. Some said that the owner of the stables, Snak gra-Bura, ate all the horses there. The locals had to buy their horses at nearby farms. However, I decided to take a chance.

All Bosmers can talk to animals. It is a natural gift, like a talent of singing or smithing. But thanks to my Imperial granddad, in addition to my under-ears I had the lack of this gift. When my father spoke to animals and different creatures, like will-o-the-wisps, they obeyed completely. When I did the same it was like an old person with trembles trying to draw a straight line. Eventually there would be some sort of line, but not straight at all. In the course of time I figured out how to make animals execute simple commands, but it was a long way off the true mastery. The sounds, the breath and the attitude must vector a certain pattern, or else the animal will ignore you or go berserk. The smarter an animal was, the more difficult it was to control it. For example, I could easily call a fish to simply harvest it instead of catching; however, making a dog or a pig do something could be quite complicated.

I bid farewells to Lilian, humped bluey and headed for the stables. My ear was sending waves of dumb pain through my body. Maybe I should've departed on the next day, but the anticipation was too strong. Besides, I was anxious that the contract had been already given to someone else.

The horses were out in the paddock. I caught sight of a small bay mare. She was standing so close to the fence I could touch her. I focused and started to beast-talk to her.

"Hey, mavourneen," I whispered in Bosmeri. The horse raised her neb and looked at me. "You are in danger. Your masters want to kill and eat you. Your herd can't protect you." Unlike my father I never could understand their answers, but the mare’s horror was obvious. She was barely breathing, eyes wide and ears set back.  _Good. I got her._  “You have to run. Escape the danger. I can protect you. Only I can protect you.”

“Hey, what are you doing there, elf?” A stableman must have noticed the strange horse’s behavior. I saw a man in dirty green clothes approaching us.

“He won’t protect you. _I_  will protect you. He will eat you.” I turned and hastily walked away, fastening the knapsack in front of me. I didn’t look back. The plan was to behave like a leader of a herd: to warn about danger and then to make a safe getaway. The mare neighed hysterically while the stableman was trying to calm her down. I spotted out of the corner of my eye another man running to help his associate. The soft sough of magic, probably some sort of calming spell, went off through the evening air. Then came the scream, rattle of timber and patter of hoofs. I was ready to leap onto the horse any moment. But for some reason she wasn't coming. I nervously looked back. Instead of following my lead the horse ran in the opposite direction. For two or three seconds I was coping with the uncontemplated sutiation. I could be a stub like that sometimes. Especially in uncontemplated sutiations.

"No! Get here, you stupid scrag!" I wailed. I wasn't sure I could get away from the furious stable workers with the heavy sack hanging from my shoulders and the Imperial Watch patrolling somewhere nearby.  _Okay. Mental note: always make up plan B, idiot._  But the mare didn't listen to me, she was too scared to hear anything but her fucking frightened brain.

"A rustler here! Guards!"  _Oh shit._ It was Snak gra-Bura herself. Orcs usually don't do much talking, they have their own ways of dealing with problems. "Stay where you are, little cunt!"  She threw an axe in my direction.  _Do your orsimers have to carry your damn axes everywhere?_  It swooshed right past my left ear which immediately started to ache more intense even though it wasn't scraped by the axe. 

"I SAID GET HERE!" I yelled at the top of my lungs and made way downhill to the City Bridge. Horse or not, staying beside an enraged orc is a lethal risk. Maybe I managed to get the exact wave, because these brays seemed to have some impact on the horse. She slowed down reluctantly. "FRONT AND CENTER, FRIGGING MEATBALL!" The mare trotted to me.  _Ugh. Finally._

She slowed down her pace just enough for me to jump on her, hoist the knapsack over her withers and spur away from the stables as fast as we could. I glanced back: one man was clumsily getting up from the ground and the other was helping him and starring at us. I felt sorry for them. Seriously, I had no wish of bringing them any harm or possible punishment. But I couldn't even afford a horse, for Aetherius' sake! Snak gra-Bura was shaking her fists.

I didn’t need reins to control the horse, fortunately, my speaking abilities were enough to point her the directions. The absence of saddle had little clout, too, I was used to go without it.

However, we had a long journey ahead of us, so all these harnesses would be the necessity. After two hours of galloping and trotting we stopped at the farm to the south of City Bridge. The sun was almost behind the horizon, so I decided to spend a night there. The owner of the farm, stubby Imperial with bushy whiskers, agreed to support us with all equine goods required in exchange for two living deers. Well, that was no problem to me. Unlike horses, most deers are extremely dumb.

The next morning me and Meatball, for that was the name I gave to the horse, left the farm equipped with the relatively new ammunition and cantel bags.

The rain had finally fought its way to Cyrodiil. My plan to buy some black henna to dye my hair and Meatball's hide went down the drain, because the only dry places on the road were taverns and there is no way of pulling off such trick without getting unwanted attention.

After several days of alwet travelling I was craving for a dry shelter. Not that I was expecting "WANTED!" posters with my face on them (they hadn't seen much of a face anyway, since I was bandaged), but I had been sheering away from all the ostleries that stood by the road. Sneezing and sniffling, I finally saw a shanty.  _Ah, fuck it all_. I needed warmth, and poor Meatball was fairly jaded, too.

I tethered her under a shed and entered the inn. The interior was as scanty as the exterior.

"Well I be a spotted snow bear, a customer!" A Nord behind the counter beamed at me. "Come! Take a sit by the fire! What a weather, huh!"

"Really. What a weather." I muttered. Such warm welcome in such shabby place was a little discouraging. The Nord led me to one of the chairs by the fire. The other one was taken by a middle-aged Redguard. She was smoking a long pipe.

"Hello, stranger. We don't get many visitors around here." She exhaled a wreath. "Makes things pretty lonely for me, if you know what I mean." The Redguard created an impression of a woman once powerful and elegant, now devolved into miserable and drunk.  _Possibly my future._

"We got plenty of rooms if you want one." The Nord thrust a cup of saloop into my hands. "Ain't nobody here 'cept old Rufio." 

I nearly dropped the cup.

"Er, what was your tavern's name again?"

"Not a tavern, an inn! Inn of Ill Omen. It's a horrible name for an inn, I know. But I just can't bring myself to change it. Besides, I like the sign."

_Oh, lovely. I've just showed my face to potential witnesses._

"No, I think it's a nice name for an inn." I sipped the saloop. "I want to rent a room for a night. Also my horse needs fresh oat and water."

"By the nine! By the nine!" The Nord seemed to love talking in exclamations. "Sure thing!" He stormed outside to tend to Meatball.

"Well, well, well." The Redguard drawed down the pipe. "A real company for me, Manheim, and Rufio. The only people that stay here are stragglers on the Green Road. What is your name, sweetie?"

"Brook."  _Sorry, sister. Damn, I gotta make up a list of names._ "And you?"

"Minerva. Nice to meet you." She raised her pipe a little.

"Is his name Rufio?" I decided to play fool and gave a nod towards the front door, raising my cup in response.

"No, that one's Manheim." She chuckled. "Rufio, well ... Not a lot to tell. He doesn't much like company, and spends most of his time in his room. Manheim thinks he's hiding out from someone."

"Oh my."

We were sitting in silence for some time, Minerva smoking and me relishing the heat from the fire and the saloop. The door swept open and Manheim returned, carrying Meatball's wet shabrack.

"She thought your name was Rufio!" Minerva gave a hoarse laugh.

"Nay, ma'am, I'm Manheim. Manheim Maulhand. Rufio's just an old codger. Been living here for a couple of weeks now. If you ask me, he's hiding from something. But what do I care? He pays his tab." The Nord hung the shabrack over a stick near the hearth and shrugged. "His room is downstairs, in what I like to call the Private Quarters. Use that hatch in the floor over there. But don't expect a warm reception. By the way, how can I call you?"

I blinked. _Well, wow. What's wrong with you people? First you tell me he's hiding from someone (me, obviously) and then you recount all the data you have on him. Loose lips sink ships. And kill pavid oldfarts._

"Brook. My name is Brook." I avoided his gaze.  _This using sis' name is getting _really_  out of hands._

After the dinner which I wouldn't call exactly delicious I went upstairs to my room. The plan I had had in mind was too vague to work. And now, with these two remembering my face, things got even more complicated. Alright, I knew his location. I knew that he was 'feeble'. And also I knew that he knew something's coming for him. Your humble narrator.

There was enough time for me to sharpen the plan of assassination before I heard Minerva returning to her room. Assassination, hmpf. The very sound of the word suited someone like that Luke fellow rather than me. Me? Oh, I was doing plain killing. But that what nice, too.

It was approximately one hour after the midnight, maybe later. I sneaked back to the first floor and found Manheim sniffing behind the counter.  _Poor lad, he even sleeps here._  Being as quiet as possible I took shabrack from the stick and was about to go outside when the damnable door wheezed. I froze on spot, looking at Manheim and not daring to breath.  _My perfect plan is not going to be ruined because of the fucking lump of wood._  But the Nord didn't seem to notice the sound of the old door. I cautiously closed it.

Meatball's crib was filled with grains that looked surprisingly fresh. I wondered where Manheim had gotten them here, in the middle of nowhere.  _Must be some stock._  The Blade of Woe was in of the cantel bags. As it didn't have any sheath I had wrapped it in a thick cloth. The Blade's sharp razor had torn inner layers of the cloth to pieces. Though the moons were obscured by heavy clouds, the black dagger in my hand was slightly gleaming. Not sparkling, just softly shimmering. I felt an urge to lick it. 

"Are you thirsty, Blade, sir?"

The last remains of rain were dripping from the trees. That was no good for us. The Green road was not an example of perfect pavement. It meant Meatball's hoofprints would be quite distinctive on the wet surface, let alone slack of her speed it would cause.  _Shit._ I quickly put all the ammunition back on the horse.

"Sorry, baby, no rest for the wicked. We'll be off soon." I patted her neck.

Manheim was still sleeping when I got back to the inn. I crawled downstairs to the basement.  _Private Quarters, huh._ Rufio's room was the last. It wasn't even closed. The stench of an old filthy body made me outwind for a little bit. I sneaked up on his bed. Rufio was motionless.  _Maybe he's dead already._ I heard the front door opening followed by thudding steps.

"Long time no see, officer!" It was Manheim's voice.

"Ho-o-oly fuck." I spat through set teeth.

The man on the bed snapped his eyes open.  _Oh crap. Me and my stupid mouth._

"Who are you? What do you want? I ain’t done nothin’!" Rufio raised his hands in attempt to protect himself.

"The Dark Brotherhood says hello." The Blade of Woe almost touched his throat, but Rufio wriggled away with dexterity unexpected of an 'old and weak' man, tumbled from the bed and flocked to the corridor yelling, "No! Please! I didn't mean to do it, you understand me?"

I sprinted after him.  _Gods, why my every step in this whole Dark Brotherhood is a total dung?_ Rufio whisked to another room, not even trying to close the door behind him. 

"She struggled!" He started to bleat, "I... I told her to just stay still, but she wouldn't listen! I had no choice!" He was cornered.

_Another rapist. Not that I mind it, but what in Oblivion this pattern of my victims is?_ The noise from the upstairs indicated they had heard Rufio's screams. I was trapped.  _Fucking great._  Still, there was no reason why shouldn't cleanse the world of another scumbag.

"Next time shepherd your junk!" Two rapid moves and he drooped down to the pool of his own blood. I felt a little tweak coming from Blade's handle.


	6. Shot at the Night

**The Killers – Shot at the Night**

 

 _Yes. Yes. Yes._ My heart was beating so fast it was almost painful. Pleasingly painful.  _Yes!_ And for the second time I was flooded with this stunning thrill.  _Yes. Sweet Sithis, I need more. More! It is better than any orgasm._

So it was done. Rufio's dead. Luke would be pleased.  _Damn, what it his real name?_  And now my future was settled. Fuck you, Arena. Fuck you, Arts Academy. But first I had to get out of that blasted inn.

I didn't cherish any illusions about fighting an Imperial Watch Officer. However sitting in the 'Private Quarters' like a coward was out of option. They would get me eventually. There was only one way to escape: going bald-headed and run. I grinned.  _Oh, help me gods and give me some luck._

With the Blade clenched in my teeth, I ascended a ladder up to the hatch and opened it with a jerk. Amid fears of being shot or chopped I ducked, but there was no need for it. Imperial soldier was about to tug the hatch when I bashed it open.  _Thank you, gods!_  Now he was violently cursing and seizing his bleeding nose. Manheim stared at me with his mouth open. I caught a glimplse of sleepy Minerva peeking out from the stairs.

"Money's in my room!" I shouted as I made a dart for the front door.

The Imperial soldier just flung out of the inn when me and Meatball were already on the dirty greasy road. My hands were slightly shaking.

“Sorry for your nose!” I spurred Meatball. “And your horse!” Maybe I’m bad at making friends with horses, but I’m good at scaring them. One good slap and threatening growl - and his steed was galloping through the woods, deaf to soldier’s calls. No way he would find the horse at night.

I laughed while we were moving under wet branches. A small ball of conjured mild yellow light helped us find the way. Now, when the inn was well behind and we could move slower, I was able to ponder over my deed. I couldn’t help but smile. Yes, killing Rufio was relatively easy (apart from that moment when I was too loud, yeaha). But it’s just the beginning.  _Holy balls of Arkey, what future awaits me!_  I couldn’t wait to meet man in the black cloak again. The forest smelled so good and I was feeling plain euphory. I was ready to whoop in elation. Actually, I wasn’t so joyous in a very long time. Maybe it was just an aftermath of a strain on the nerves. And the sky finally started to clear.  _Ha! "Shepherd your junk."_  I giggled. _I should say something like this every time._

After a while the road divided in two. The right way led to where I had come from: Imperial City. The left one caught my attention earlier, when I was heading to the inn. The morning brought fog, but I still could see some distant light in that direction.

“Let’s hope it’s a tavern or a farm there and not some will-o-the-wisp trap.” I said to Meatball. We turned left.

The lights turned out to be oil lanterns on a tavern's porch. The sigh said "Faregyl Inn". Now when I think of it, going to the tavern closest to the place I had comitted crime at wasn't the most reasonable decision in my life, but I was too winged by my success with Rufio. And I was so tired. I had no sleep for, what, twenty hours?

The innkeeper, a Khajiit woman, was speaking in a strange manner, but I was too busy yawning to concentrate and paid her threefold the usual price for keeping silence about me. Now I was almost completely broke.

The sleep came to me the moment I fell on the wide bed. I didn't even took all my clothes off, just the boots and the wet cloak.

Shining directly to my eyes, the sun broke my sleep. The L-man in black was sitting by the window, his face hidden in the shadows.

"Hey." I yawned and gave a little wave of the hand. "How long have you been here?"

"Enough, dear child, to comprehend you have fled hurryingly from the crime scene. What made you stop so close to the Inn of Ill Omen?"

"Oh, I was tired." I closed my eyes. The sun was too bright.  _Who in Oblivion does he think he is? I'm not going to report on my actions to him!_ "Could you, please, draw the curtains?"

He did not stir, of course.

"Are you fully aware that your sloth could cost you a life?"  _Sloth, sure. Please, spare me morning lecturing._

"Listen, it was my canny plan all along, okay?" I rubbed my eyes. "They will never think I'm so nonchalant I stay at the nearest inn. They haven't caught me yet, have they?" I was certainly not afraid of some Watchmen. I could simply hide in the surrounding woods in case fleeing was out of option.  

"Fair enough." Notwithstanding he was sitting against the light I could still see his face better now. And I was sober to boot. "So, the deed is done. Rufio lies dead." Dark eyes. Handsome clayey features. "How do I know this? You will find that the Dark Brotherhood knows a great many things." Pleasant deep voice. Prideful smile. "For you are now part of the family." It was clear as noonday: he was a good old easy rider.

"What's next?"  _The faster we get through, the better._ I was very hungry and not fond of long pretentious speeches. 

"You embrace your fate. The slaying of Rufio was the signing of a covenant. The manner of execution, your signature. Rufio's blood, the ink." The man smiled briefly.

"What covenant?"

"Know this. Every Dark Brother and Sister is a child of Sithis. He whom we call Sithis has many other names. Chaos. Doom. Discord. Sithis is the Void. We of the Dark Brotherhood serve the Night Mother, who is the bride of Sithis." 

"Yeah, I read about it."

He frowned a little.  _Oh, touchy-touchy._

"And by the way I'm really-really sorry, but I forgot your name." 

"Lucien Lachance. As a Speaker of the Black Hand, I directly oversee a particular group of family members. You, Sarynancy Cougar, will join that group, and fulfill any contracts given. You must now go to the city of Cheydinhal, to the abandoned house near the eastern wall." My stomach rumbled. "Enter the basement, and attempt to open the black door. You will be asked a question. Answer thusly: 'Sanguine, my Brother.' You will gain entrance to the Sanctuary. Once inside, speak with Ocheeva."

"Okay. Cheydinhal, Sanguine, Ocheeva. Got it. What is the Black Hand?"

"The Black Hand is the ruling body of the Dark Brotherhood. It is made up of one Listener and Four Speakers. Four fingers and a thumb, if you will. Also, as a member of the Dark Brotherhood, you must abide by the Five Tenets. They are the laws that guide and protect us." He looked so content explaining all this and reciting the Tenets. "We must now take our leave of each other, you and I, for there is much work to be done. I'll be following your progress." And he gave me another smile, less severe. "Welcome to the family, Sister."

This time Lachance had decency to depart through the door, however when I opened it a couple seconds later and looked along the hall, I saw nobody.

Abhuki the innkeeper told me no Imperial Watchmen had visited the place during my sleep.

"A nephew I have, sometimes he walks the wrong shadows. Your secret, Mer, is safe with me."

That seemed like a great reason to finally dye me and Meatball to darker colours. Thank gods I had henna suffice for both of us. My uncle Vadour once showed me how to make any powder portable. There was this spell, really simple, which required only a chalk circle on flat and clean surface. You put the needful powder inside the circle, cast a spell - and a small rock of pressed powder is ready to be moved. I am not very good at magic, but can cast some simple spells like this one.

Furthermore, after long grey days of neverending rain Kynareth had finally come to senses and kicked away the clouds. You could not image a better first Hearthfire day. The hoofprints were almost indiscernible on the sunbaked ground.

It was already early evening when I saddled Meatball. Our journey to Cheydinhal began.

"I hope that all other men in the Brotherhood are as hot as this peacock, but not as pompous." I nipped the wine I had bought at the Faregyl for the rest of the money. There would be no need in gold in the nearest future. The henna I added to wine for the sake of experiment appended peculiar bitter taste. "Can you imagine, Meatball, honey, he was calling me 'dear child'!" I snortled.


	7. Colors of a Shade

**Robert Plant – Colors of a Shade**

 

Slightly chilly days were shortening as I headed north. Here in Cyrodiil we have rather mild weather in comparison to Skyrim, for example. I had never been there, but had heard that even in the warmest regions like Rift summer is like our spring.

The way to Cheydinhal was boringly calm. The rarely met Watchmen paid no attention to me and the Oblivion Gates were nowhere to be seen. Riding through the small villages I heard all sort of talks about them: that they are holes in the sky, that they are really the gates with doors and everything, that they were opened by the Septim family, or by the Arcane University, or by the Psijics, that they are green, black, red, purple, that they lead outside of Aetherius... And that the biggest Gates so far were opened in Kvatch. The town was completely destroyed now. I could only hope that none of my folks were in Kvatch during the invasion. Coya, my village, was closer to Skingrad than to Kvatch, yet sometimes we visited Pock-on-the-Rock, as Tesion called it. Apparently, a perfect sense of humor is a familial thing.

Well, Pock-on-the-rock could go to Oblivion, for all I care. I had my prey-to-play-and-slay.

The bandit, the Bosmer, Aegismoss, the Dunmer, and Rufio. Already five.  
How many will I score?

How many Lachance has scored? Dozens? Hundreds?

I decided to keep a record of these fortunate souls. Finally that old journal would come in handy. Using a cipher seemed like an obvious idea, the concept of which was rather easy to create: all words are spelled backwards and written in special symbols, aside from symbols that mean nothing and are randomly inserted into notes for the sake of intricacy. Not the most genius cipher, but quite cannie, I think. I learnt all the symbols after a week of repeating and then burnt all the drafts.

Does anyone else in the Brotherhood keep such diaries? They or, rather, we must have some sort of recorded accounting system, with all these great incomes.

How much will I be paid, by the way? I heard the members of Morag Tong are rather wealthy. How much does it cost to order someone killed?

_KILL! KILL! KILL! Soon the harvest would be arranged._

Why do people consider killing a bad thing? Because everyone wants to survive and the more people are against killing, the less a chance of being killed is. Everyone killing everyone is almost impossible anyway. Almost. While we have the Wild Hunt. Although, I have never been sure if I could be a part of it, with my Imperial blood. I have never been sure if I wanted to be a part of it at all.

They say life is sacred. No, it's not, not in the slightest. Most people don't kill each other because they would feel awful and then would be pursued by the law. So this is a question of selfishness and not of sanctity of life, isn’t it? We've all got the power in our hands to kill, but most people would feel deranged and horrible after that. I sure there are people who want to do it. They are just too afraid to act. Well, it's their choice, I'm not going to judge them.

Death is not sacred, either. Ask necromancers, they will tell you about sanctity of death. Death, life... Just tools.

Nevertheless killing is forbidden by the law, people do it every day, in some cases even legally. For example, at the Arena or Fighters Guild. Why these organisations are any better than the Dark Brotherhood? And the Morag Tong, even stationed in the Morrowind, still do the very same thing and everyone is okay with that.

And then there are people who officially control life and death. I'm talking about kings, healers, and midwives.

Also some kill willingly and take pleasure from it. Like me, Lucien Lachance, or Owyn from the Arena. And it is selfish, too. So what matters in the end is you life philosophy.

Sometimes good people get killed, but sometimes they have it coming. There a lot of scum in this world. I’m one angry motherfucker and I believe in ultimate justice. I just hope all those who are deserving will get what’s coming to them. Even me. Now that would be a great show, wouldn't it? I guess I can be considered bad now. Evil.

_Am I evil? I kill, I steal, I lie, I drink, I destroy._

I was relishing these dark vibes running through me.  _Thank you, Lachance. Thank you... Brother._

Have I already coincidentally come across any Brothers or Sisters?

It was the 16th of Hearthfire when I arrived to Cheydinhal. The town was smaller than Skingrad or Kvatch, but very cute, all the dainty bridges, roofs, and windows making it appear almost fairytale-like. Even the abandoned house looked abandoned in a fancy way: nattily shattered windows, crevice tracery on plaster, a roof cavity in the foreground, several patches of hogweed on the holding, and an ivied well behind the house were surrounded by the crumbled fence. Not locked, but stiff front door uttered a nighly melodious screech. It was much colder inside than outside. Webs hung in tatters everywhere. I could hear some rustles coming from the upstairs.  _Might be rats or birds._  The dust covering the floor was disturbed by two lanes: one routing to the second floor and another, rightwards, to the basement.

The door to the right opened with no trouble or sounds. The moment I closed it behind me I felt a slight vibration. It was like a beating of a giant heart, steady and bold. My heart, in its turn, was more rather shaking than beating.  _Remember, Saryn, you fear nothing._  The deeper I was descending, the louder that giant heart was beating. I heard a breath, ancient, like Death itself.  _Yes, these guys, I mean we, can really create an atmosphere._ Ultimately, when the cold was unbearable and the heartbeat was almost deafening, I saw the Door Lachance had told me about. It wasn't black, though.  _Maybe it's the wrong door?_  It was  ~~blood orange~~  glowing with red and had an engraving of a woman killing four children an holding one of them, who's probably dead already.  _This must be the Night Mother. Oh, now I can see how she loves her children._ I dubiously tugged the knocker.

"What is the color of night?" A waft of wind soughed through the basement .

"Sanguine, my Brother." I forced my voice not to be squeaky.

The Door trembled and budged. I squared shoulders, tidied hair, lifted my chin, and threw the Door open.

"Welcome home."

After all the eerie sounds, this phase was really nice to hear. "Thanks."

The wide hall ended in a vast chamber. Lit by numerous torches and decorated with tapestries, it was at least threefold bigger than my house in Coya. The moment I stepped in, a young Argonian girl, followed by the giant rat, approached me.

"Greeting, greeting!" She was beaming. I couldn't help but to smile back. "I'm Ocheeva, mistress of this Sanctuary. Lucien has told me all about you! Sarynancy, right?" I nodded. "Let me welcome you to the Dark Brotherhood!" Ocheeva gave my hands a warm clasp. Or, rather, cold. But who would blame an Argonian for having cold hands? She was friendly and that was all that mattered to me then. "It is always a pleasure to welcome another Dark Sister into our ranks. Truly, the Night Mother smiles upon her trusted daughters." The rat was busily sniffing my feet like some kind of bizarre dog. "His name is Schemer. And this is our Sanctuary." She waved her hand pointing all round the chamber. "May it serve you as your new home and place of comfort and security whenever the need arises. Now, let me show you what we ..." But she was interrupted by a chubby blond woman.

"I've heard so much about you! Welcome to our Family." The woman hugged me. "My name is Antoinetta Marie. And you are? ..."

_Oh, look, Lilian the Second._

"Sarynancy Cougar." Ocheeva said drily. "I was about to conduct her an excursion over the Sanctuary."

"Welcome, Nancy, dear! So good to finally meet you! I hope you're getting along all right. Ocheeva, I want to conduct this excursion myself. Can you make an exception for once, please?" I was still in the grip of Antoinetta’s embrace.

"Fine. But don't make her do anything... quirky. Sarynancy, when you're ready for work, go and speak with Vicente Valtieri. He handles all assignments for new family members."

"Yes, yes, I will explain her everything!" The Breton entailed me, leaving Ocheeva with Schemer behind.

Firstly, she brought me to the Living Chambers, where I could finally throw my knapsack on the bed and collapse next to it. But Antoinetta didn't let me tap into this little piece of civilization and asked me to try on my new armour. It was a little oversized, so she spend about half an hour girthing and adjusting it until the armour fit perfectly. It was made of thin, but stout black leather and had a lot of useful pockets. Some gear, like grappling hooks and tiny knifes, was presented with the armour.

Antoinetta was all smiles and giggles, blending jokes with tales about contracts.

"Sometimes, right before a kill, Sithis speaks to me. He whispers in my ear and fills my heart with the joy of suffering and death!"  _How cute._

She showed me others parts of the Sanctuary and acquainted me with the rest of Family members who were there at that point in time. They were all extremely friendly, to the point I started to find it suspicious. But it looked like this was the way the things were done here. After all they, we, I mean, were family in the best sense of the term and now I was a part of it. I was wondering what was Lachance’s behavior like when he’s with them. Us. All of my new Brothers and Sisters spoke very highly of him, by the way.  _They are so nice, as contrasted to our arrogant boss, I even have no desire to snap._

I was passed from hand to hand, receiving welcomes and answering their questions ranging from "Do you dye your hair?" to "How old were you when you killed for the first time?" Orc, named Gogron, who asked this question was so impressed with my answer ("Nine or ten, I don't remember quite well.") he was about to give me a smack on the shoulder, but was timely stopped by Telaendril, fellow Bosmer.

Vicente Valtieri took no part in all these frolics and I felt relief when I eventually came to his chamber, shrouded in the remotest part of the Sanctuary.


	8. Snake Eyes

**John Paul Jones - Snake Eyes**

 

Vicente answered after the first knock.

"Please, come in," I heard his swishing voice.

Cool and not nearly stale air filled the deepest chamber of the Sanctuary. Vicente, surrounded by lit candles, neat piles of paper and countless bookshelves, was reading.

"Ah, here you are. So good to finally meet you, Sarynancy." He put the book aside. "Warmest greetings to you. I trust you've already spoken with Ocheeva?"

"Oh, I have spoken with  _everyone_ , it seems." And was taken aback by their behaviour. At that moment they were gearing up for some sort of welcoming celebration.  _The more drinks, the better, anyhow._

"No, two of our Brothers are absent today, M'raaj-Dar and Teinaava. Perhaps you will meet with them later. I am Vicente Valtieri. I provide assignments for all new family members. Please do not let my appearance...unnerve you. The needs and Tenets of the Dark Brotherhood come before my own needs as a vampire." At first, in subdued light of candles, I had not noticed his almost transparent skin and reddish eyes and now I almost made myself refrain from spontaneous protective gesture.

"Oh, no worries," I tried to smile politely.  _Surely I'm not afraid of some friendly vampire, am I?_

"Good. Let's begin, shall we?" Vicente smiled, showing his fangs. "Before giving you contracts, let me explain you our methods and ways. A contract is a pact one enters into with the Dark Brotherhood. They provide us with the gold, and we remove someone from existence." I liked that phase. "A contract is fulfilled by a skilled assassin such as yourself, who keeps the Dark Brotherhood's end of the bargain. So it has always been. The techniques usually employed vary according to whether the subject is unaware of his danger, aware but unguarded, or guarded. They also are affected by whether or not the assassin is to be killed with the subject hereafter. Assassinations in which the subject is unaware are termed 'simple'; those where the subject is aware but unguarded are termed 'chase'; those where the victim is guarded are termed 'guarded'. If the assassin is to die with the subject, the act is called 'lost'. It should be noted that 'lost'-type contracts are not practiced within the Brotherhood. We are not Morag Tong, still and all. If the assassin is to escape, the adjective is 'safe'. A further type division is caused by the need to conceal the fact that the subject was actually the victim of assassination, rather than an accident or natural causes. If such concealment is desirable the operation is called 'secret'; if concealment is immaterial, the act is called 'open'; while if the assassination requires publicity to be effective it is termed 'intimidating'. Following these definitions, the assassination of Rufio was safe, chase, and open, while that of our dearest Emperor was lost, guarded and intimidating. While carrying out a contract, you may have the opportunity to earn a bonus if certain parameters are met. Some contracts are straightforward. Find the target, eliminate them, then return to the Sanctuary. No time limits or complications. However, many of our clients request that their contracts be carried out in a specific manner. A certain place, a certain method of elimination. We try to honor this requests whenever possible. After all, the Dark Brotherhood's reputation has been built on providing... good service. Any Brother or Sister who can complete a contract while fulfilling a specific request will receive a valuable bonus, oftentimes a powerful magic item."

"Nancy?" Telaendril peeked through the door. "Oh, Vicente, Brother, I beg your pardon for interrupting. Care to join us? It's been a long time since we had a new member."

"Maybe." He gave a graceful nod.

"Please! Nancy, dear, everything's ready."

"Yeah, thank you."  _Hooch, I'm coming, my love!_ Telaendril closed the door.

"I shall be honest with you, I don't find such parties enjoyable and hope you won't find my omission offensive." Vicente lit a new candle in substitution of one just gone out.

"No, that's okay, I can understand." _Do I even have a right to take umbrage at the vampire I've just met?_

"Thank you. As you might have already been told this is not the only Sanctuary in Cyrodiil, let alone Tamriel. You must excuse me, but I can’t tell you the other locations, not until you are Executioner. Anyway, for the sake of security we are never given the contracts of the same city the Sanctuary is in. The weapon Lucien has given to you..."

"The Blade of Woe."

"Right. Up until you killed Rufio it was a vain piece of metal. Your act of dispatch charged the Blade with magical powers. Consider this your first bonus item. Now, if you are ready to get to work, I can provide you with the first contract." He took out a paper from the pile on his table.

"More than ready!" I exclaimed. Being in the Sanctuary for just several hours, feeling the soft leather of the armour I was still wearing against my skin was so entrancing, like I was born to do it.

"I'm not sure how you feel about pirates, but you've got to kill one. A captain, in fact. On his ship. Surrounded by his crew. Interested?" He didn't need words to comprehend my answer. "Excellent." He marked the paper. "Here is what you must do. Go to the Waterfront District of the Imperial City. There you will find a ship named the Marie Elena. Board the ship and find its captain, Gaston Tussaud. Eliminate Tussaud in any manner you see fit, this case is simple, safe and open. Oh, and one more thing. Get into the habit of asking your fellow family members about any current contract. Their insight may prove invaluable."

"What advice can you give me, then?"

"The pirates have been moving a lot of cargo onboard lately. You may be able to smuggle yourself on board in one of the packing crates,” he put the paper in a big leather folder. “And, Sister, never forget the Tenets."

***

Gogron dragged some orsimer booze the local orcs were brewing. Truth be told, it was the hardest stuff I had ever tried. Drinks, food, and songs flowed in streams. Who knew cold-blooded killers could be such sweethearts?

The next morning, or day, to be more precise, I woke up with my arms around Antoinetta Marie, but we were both more or less dressed, so I decided there's nothing to worry except the hangover. Making a mental note to make a post-juice restoration potion for future use, I invaded Cheydinhal market in search of any remedies for me and the others. Vicente, the only sober Brother left, could not go on the surface during the day due to his vampire factor and the condition of others was even worse than mine.  _It's been a reeeally long time since there was a new member._

I spent only two days in Cheydinhal, leaving her with Gogron on the 18th of Hearthfire. He set forth three hours earlier than me, so that civilians (or “stiffs”, as Gorgon called them) wouldn't see us together, and waited for me at the abandoned farm two miles down the road. Gorgon’s contract called him for going to Anvil and we decided to travel together. We were quite a sight to see: petty bosmer on a small bay mare and and an orc, in full heavy gear, on a dun heavy draught horse. The oncoming autumn made trees along the Blue road turn flame-coloured. The real frost never comes further south than Chorrol or Cheydinhal, but the weather still gets colder all across the province. Not in the Arboretum, though. Arcane University had made the summer stay all year round there.

Gogron was a fun to journey with.

"Who needs magic items when you've got raw skill? And the great thing about killing a target up close and personal is you can talk to 'em before you do it! You know, say something scary!"

"You got it right!" I chuckled. "Rufio, the guy I killed at Lachance's request, was a rapist." Gogron spat in disgust. "Exactly. And you know what I told him? To shepherd his junk next time!" We dabbed our wineskins.

"Good one, Sister! For example, this one time I had a contract to kill a little Nord girl at her birthday party. She asked me if I was the jester! So I said to her, 'No, I am a messenger of death.' You should have seen the look on her face!" The Orc shook his sides with laughing. "Anyway, she won't be seeing age six!"

Going to the Imperial City through the main gates and the stables was unreasonable, so I decided to leave Meatball at Pell's Gate, a small village on the southern shore of the Rumar, and hire a boatman to sail over straight to the Waterfront. Gogron rode on westwards, and I made my way to the Waterfront slums.

Marie Elena stood proudly in the Waterfront docks. It took two days to find out that ranged killing was out of option: Gaston Tussaud almost never left his ship. Sneaking in one of the crates to be delivered to cargo hold seemed too dubious. I mean what if they wouldn't board this particular crate? Or what if the crate would be blocked by the other crates? Seriously, Vicente, with all due respect, to be smuggled in one of the crates - what in Oblivion kind of idea is that?

Tussaud's cabin opened on a very lovely balcony. I saw him there a couple of times, looking all puffed up in his frilly doublet and with a shiny bald pate. Unfortunately, making a hole in the captain while he was moodling there was almost impossible: there wasn't any proper place for longtime hiding in the docks of ships around.

Early on Turdas foggy morning I dived through freezing Rumar waves, using contra-soaking scroll beforehand. The scroll kept gear from the water corruption, but not my poor bones from deadly cold waters. I grasped the prominent rudder, scrambled up, pulled at a vial with invisibility potion, and skirred a hook to the balcony. It looped around the railing and stick into varnished timber with a tiny crack. The lock to Tussaud's room was quite a daedra to pay. My fortes never included lockpicking, so when I ultimately opened it I was as good as seeable.

To my great dismay Gaston Tussaud wasn't sleeping. The captain of Marie Elena was sitting at his desk.

"What in blazes!" He slammed a goblet on the table and turned to me, "You ain't one of me crew! Ye best start explainin' yerself, mate, if ye want to get off this ship alive!"

"You don't see me! I'm delusion!" I went off half-cocked and sprung on him. Not the most airy fairy leap in my life, but Tussaud was slightly malty and the cabin wasn't exactly suitable for fighting with his long cutlass. He fell with the chair, ran his head against the desk margin, and the Blade of Woe, abundantly greased with concentrated castor poison, finished the job. As a result I ended up hunkered on his body and all fouled with blood. The smell of death filled my nostrils.  _Oh yes. Thanks Sithis, I realized my true calling in life. I'm a natural born killer._ The captain's carcass was rather comfortable to sit on.

I looked at the blood-stained book Tussaud hadn't finished. "Lusty Argonian Maid? Oh, naughty boy."

The boatman was already waiting for me. Jhimes, a poverty-stricken Redguard, accepted a small flock of carps I 'called' and caught as a payment for reticence and ferriage.


	9. Before the Devil Knows You're Dead

**Meantooth Grin – Before the Devil Knows You're Dead**

 

With the onset of winter the damnable Oblivion Crisis peaked. The weather was so abnormally warm there was almost no snow.

That man from the cell next to mine, the "important" one, now was really important and famous throughout Tamriel. Tobias Yew, Hero of Kvatch, saviour of the last Septim. Some poor bastard boy turned out to be the only heir. Who knew that old Uriel's infidelity would've help in saving the world.

The army was spread across the province, for the Gates appeared in any place. There were constant fights. The whole settlements were leveled with the ground by the daedra. The Crystal Tower on Summerset isle was demolished to the root.

Death came in the shape of daedra or famine. The intercity trade practically stopped. Few brave people formed sort of partisan parties that stroke out to the Deadlands, and the minority of them even closed several Gates by some miracle. 

The 'Black Horse Courier' issued a pamphlet 'What to do when you see the Gates' with advice varying from 'Report to the nearest Legion post' to 'Don't play dice with dremora's'.

One may think the Oblivion crisis would bring some sympathy or feeling of unity to people's hearts, but, on the contrary, plenty of work came without a hitch.

I met M’raaj-Dar (who seemed an uncommon moron at first compared to the others, but in sober fact was rather sane, albeit grumpy) and Teinaava (Ocheeva's twin, quite hardheaded guy). 

Even through the business went well, the rumors of a traitor were running through the Brotherhood. Rumors that someone was killing our Silblings, 'an assassin among assassins' as Ocheeva said.

I was very thrilled to get a close-up view of the Gates, but all I fortuned in my travels were distant red sheet lighting or smoking remains. And even those were few and far between. Just as the Gates, Lachance was nowhere to be seen. Supposedly he visited the Sanctuary once or twice while I was away. The question of how do we even know about the contracts was left practically unanswered. Vicente gave very vague response: “From the birds.” I wasn't very successful in milking more information, and subsequently forgot to ask every time I was in Cheydinhal. But I spent so little time there, anyway. One night, two - tops, and then on the road again. Compared to my previous days the life in the Brotherhood was almost constant ‘woo-hoo’. I liked the rush, I liked the hunt. The tasks, the places, the targets were different all the time. Roughly said, I was having tons of fun. These people genuinely understood my jokes on the dead infants, and it spoke volumes. And the money was really good. I have never had any ultimate goal, so living a dangerous life on the edge was enough for me. And the bloodlust... It was like a drug.

It was the beginning of Morning Star, and I had eleven under my belt. My last contract wasn't exactly pretty: no real killing, just decapitating of several dead-already-meats. Close-in fighting! Gross! Don't get me wrong, drunken ass-kicking - yes, gimme soup course, second course, dessert, and then some! But not while I'm on, in a manner of speaking, duty. I have always sucked in fights, preferring ranged or abrupt strikes, even when I was a kid (yes, I was a little shit). Nimble and quick I may be, but I could never wield a wallop. 

After paying me for this job Vicente said, “I'm afraid our collaboration is coming to an end. This is the last contract you will receive from me. That's why I decided to present this particular kill to you, Slayer. Your target is a Dark Elf named Valen Dreth."

"The name seems familiar..." I was never the one for names. Places were my gimmick.

"Does it? He thinks he's safe in prison. He is tragically mistaken."

"Ah,  _that_  crum!"  _Maybe paying Sod a visit is worthwhile, too_. "I'm just wandering how did you find out about my imprisonment."

"We have our ways to observe. There will be time for you to learn about this." He threw a berry to Schemer and delicately dried his hands, "A prisoner, now known as Yew, has escaped from the prison using a set of secret tunnels connected to the Imperial sewers system. It's a perfect way inside. Just outside the Imperial prison is a grating that leads to the sewers. It is recently been tightly locked, but I will provide a key. It should be easy enough to locate Dreth in his small cell. This Dunmer has been imprisoned for many years. His tongue is sharp, but his body is limp and frail. He will prove an easy, pleasurable kill. You will receive a bonus if you fulfill the contract without killing any of the Prison guards. Now go, may the Night Mother go with you. And don't let the nostalgia quail your hand."

"Oh, I say!" I nipped a bunch of grapes from his dish. Notwithstanding his bloodthirsty nature Vicente was really fond of fresh fruit and berries. And, forgive me Y'ffre, so was I.

On my way to the Prison I was convoied by the burning odor. In those days the stench of char was an omnipresent intruder.

The rusty key provided by Vicente reluctantly opened the stated grating. It was dark as pitch inside. I squeezed to the narrow tunnel trying not to graze damp walls. My steps echoed through the sewers. The smell of burnt was gone, it gave place to fragrances of guck. Combined with lack of fresh air, Imperial City canalization scented of the vilest shit. The fetidity was so thick I could almost taste it. _And then it all goes to the Rumar._   _And people drink it. And I drank, too. Great._  I checked with the rough plan Vicente gave me.  _Oh no. Your idea of a goodbye present is utterly WRONG, Vicente, you asshole._ I held my breath and dowsed myself into the slow waters of capital sewers. Dirty, stinky, sticky, muddy waters.

_Now the guards don't need to see me to know I'm here. All they need is to follow the stench._

Mercifully, that part of the route was short. Scaring away rats, pale little lizards, and mudcrabs, I found the hatchway to what supposedly was called the Sanctum. It seemed that the supernal redolences of the Sewers wriggled their way to the entire underground facilities, so the only possible trails for me to left were wet footprints. I heard the guards. They were standing round the corner.

" ...of course, I'm proud to do my duty. But it's a waste of time. What are we guarding? Cold stone and shadow! That's it!"

"Sod, I'm not disagreeing with you, believe me."  _What a lucky meeting!_  "Those assassins got what they wanted. The Emperor is dead. They got no reason to come back."  _Yep. They won't come back. I will._  "But at least, we're safe here."

"Maybe you are safe, but yesterday the 'Courier' published their monthly report on the destroyed places. There was one too close to my hometown! But will the captain listen? No! 'We must have a presence!' " Sod aped her, " 'The prison must remain secure!' Faugh!"

"Yeah, what a laugh, huh?" Judging by his voice, the guard had already heard it all, and not once."Well, I guess I'd better get back to my watch. Hey, don't forget we're meeting for drinks later at the Bloated Float."

"Oh, I'll be there! How could I miss a chance to see you cower before that big word bouncer!" Sod laughed.

"Phew, I ain't afraid of no one. Courage is my middle name! I!.. Ah, nevermind." The man headed to the corridor to the right.

I took a sup of Invisibility potion. Right before stringing along with the other guard I whispered to the Sod's ear, "Hello, Sodius." He nearly jumped out of his skin and nervously looked about. That face was priceless. Sod shook his head and suspiciously peered at the a bottle on the floor.

Soon the guard stopped again to have a chat with another lucky jailer and I continued my way to Dreth. He could be recognized from afar.

"Filthy cur!” I heard his voice. “I told you I was going to get out of here! My time's almost up!"  _It sure is, honey. Hussy's coming._  "And there's nothing you can do about it!"

"Yeah, well, what's it been? Seven, eight years? We have a good long run you and me."  _They banged him?! No, it's unlikely. I hope._ "I always knew it would end someday."

"ELEVEN! Eleven years in this rat infested hole!" Valen howled, "But I'm getting out! And you'll be still stuck in here!"  _He's got a point._

"Oh yeah?" The guard sneered, "Where will you go, huh? What will you do? You can't survive out there, Dreth, you're an animal. You belong in that cage."

"I'll remember that when I'm lying on the beaches of Summerset isle with your wife, you Imperial pig!" I almost snicked.  _Good one, Dreth!_

"Right! And you'll be rich, too.” The guard kept on his stupid teasing. “Oh, and you'll become a king! And you know what I think, Dreth? I think you'll be back. You lot always come back." _Like me, right?_

"You'll see, you Imperial dog! When I get out of here, all of Tamriel will know my name. VALEN DRETH! VALEN DRETH!"

"Alright, alright! I'm tempted to let out right now, if you just shut up!" And finally he went away, leaving Dreth alone with me.

My hands became translucent, but there was no need for another potion portion. I stepped to the light.

"You! The ghost! You got to get me out of here! Come on, open the door!" Dreth pled. I almost felt pity for him.  _This is the first and the last time I kill someone I know already, Vicente._  I collared Dunmer and pulled him to the cell bars. "What are you doing?!"

"Ghosts don't open the doors, Valen."

"Wait, I know you... You.. the smallpox! I heard how you clobbered Sod! You lucky bastard! But... you came back?" I smiled, still holding him. "Come on, you've got to help me! Let old Valen out of this cell! You've got your freedom, now give me mine! What do you say, huh? Come on, friend!"

"Friend? More like hussy, isn't it? The Night Mother sends her farewells and greetings."

"The Night Mo... No! No! Guards!" Dreath tried to wriggle out of my grip. "Guards! Help me!" But no guard came, because his throat was so very exposed and the dagger in my hand was so very sharp.

That could be considered revenge, I guess?


	10. Darkness, Darkness

**Golden Earring – Darkness, Darkness**

 

Light spring breeze blew through my hair. The Coldstone Mansion (named after Fiore Coldstone, Chancellor for Mining and Gems), with all its little towers, mouldings and balusters, appeared to be the perfect surveillance spot of Arch-mage Traven’s manor. Or, to be more specific, of his son Ellius’ windows. In this evening hour the sun moved its rays to the western side of the house, leaving the southern wall perfectly clear for overlooking. For example, now Ellius was feeding his pet scamp.  _There’s the Crisis going, and he’s got scamps running round the house, bah!_

Tonight’s the night. I was lazily watching the sun sinking low, throwing glances at the windows now and then. This son of a vixen was carefully shielded from any possible threat. Perhaps he was even waiting for me. Ocheeva didn’t give much data on him. Besides the fact that it was probably the toughest contract I had ever gotten.  _We’ll see._

"We’ll see." I said to a sparrow hawk silently sitting on my shoulder and rocking his wings every now and again. The hawk didn’t know he most likely would be dead in several hours. Neither knew twelve chickadees and a squirrel.

The midnight peal resounded through the City.  _Let the show begin._

Unlike Traven, Coldstone was rather nonchalant is his security methods. I fastened a cage with chickadees, packed in soft fabric, to my back like a knapsack, put the squirrel to the bosom and jumped down on a larch growing bark to stone with the Mansion. Apparently, either cultivating of all but a private forest was dictated by good taste, or both families had slovens for the gardeners.

Leaping from branch to branch I made my way to one of the parapets of the Traven’s house. Two out five chimneys weren’t exhaling smoke. I harked to an utmost one. Not a sound. I hitched the cage to the rope and dipped it down the stony funnel, then slipped next to it. Embers of freshly put out hearth toasted my feet. The empty kitchen still smelled of dinner. I sneaked to the hall. The house was dark and quiet, at least around me.

I like watching the process of becoming invisible. The pleasant chill ran through my body. My hands melted into thin air and I moved around a little bit to gain the sense of my carcass.

From the kitchen I headed rightwards, where, to my knowledge, the main entrance was. A serving boy hurtled by and barely knocked me off the feet. I decided to follow him. And there is was, the grand hall lit not by ignoble torches, but by magical lights stunningly floating around.  _Good thing I don’t cast shadows._  The doorman was peacefully dozing.

I took the uncomfortable cage off my shoulders. The fabric muffled the tinkling. My chickadees were very eager to get free, especially after I whispered them that their nests are being assailed. Twelve birds flew in all directions, desperately screeching and waking everyone up. Now, when all the residents of the house were occupied, I rushed upstairs to my precious Ellius.

This universal bedlam may seem stupid, but, seriously, providing the quantity of auxiliaries in his house it was safer to distract the majority of them than to anticipate to stumble upon anyone at a moment’s notice. Twice I came to the wrong rooms. The first one was a study and the second, placed right beneath Ellius’, was, say to say, roomed

Ellius’ private quarters were on the third floor. The lonely guard stood on the right side of a formidable door, paying no attention to the turmoil. My steps were inaudible as I crawled up to him. The bonus part of the contract required Ellius to become the only corpse in the house. For that reason I took out a phial with seebwul concentrate. The seebwul is a plant from Agronia. It is not poisonous, but its fumes can put any non-Argonian right out for no less than six hours. I held my breath, opened the phial and shoved in under the guard’s nose. He heavily fell headlong. I instantly spiled the phial up and cut a bunch of keys from the guard’s belt.

My head was a little dizzy because of too potent invisibility potion and that miserable amount of seebwul I managed to inhale. There wasn’t much time before the transparency effect would wear off.

The ruckus was unspeakable. My chickadees’ shrieks, stomping and frantic yells filled the manor. Someone was making the air blue. I took a second to smile and appreciate the chaos around me. But, alas, Ellius’ heart was still beating. I quickly found the matching key, slipped into his room and tightly closed the door behind me.

"You presume I don’t know you’re here, assassin?" Ellius was sitting on his bed and looking at me.  _Ah you little fuck._  "Your invisibility won’t fly tonight." He swung a veiny amulet decked to his neck by a long chain _. Must be some kind of detecting life trinket._  The smell of asphodels pervaded the room.

"Assassin?" I examined his floor. There they were, four paralyzing seals the client had warned around. "You really think I’m an assassin, right? Oh, I told Esi, but would he listen?" I muttered.  _Improvise, idiot!_  “I, dear sir, am Lidelia, the queen of queans!”  _What in Oblivion am I jabbering?_

"Sure." He was gazing hard at me, "And I’m Crassius Curio, the king of kinks."

_Just look at this smarty fancy pants!_

"Alright, Crassius. Enough of this. Hawk!" The bird pounced upon Ellius, trying to peck out his eyes. Frostbound, it was hurled away in four seconds, but it was enough for me to overstep the seals and send the squirrel at his bare ankles. Squirrels won’t kill you, but their bites are quite painful.  _Next time I should use kittens and bunnies. And sing._  Ellius blindly tried to get rid of the little beast and I lunged for his amulet. It was so candently hot, I got mild burns through the gloves. My yank wasn’t strong enough for the chain to break.

"Not an assassin, but thief!" Ellius aimed for my face, clots of energy gleaming on his fingertips. I dodged and tugged the amulet, stumbling and falling on his bed _. In theory, as written in books, now it’s time for me to spread legs._ Instead I coiled the chain around my right fist and flung spiked choker on his neck with the left hand, shutting off the air to Ellius. He couldn’t be harmed while wearing the amulet, but he could be killed  _by_  it. I heard the final squeak of the squirrel and then something shrilling unhooded me and seized by my short ponytail.  _Damn, how could I forget about the scamp!_  The smell of smouldering hair obscured asphodels.

"Think you’d get away with it?" Ellius wheezed out, feverishly trying to cling to his last seconds. Blood was dripping from his mouth. "We’ll meet again soon, Bosmer!"

He jerked and breathed last gasp. The scamp immediately disappeared. I slapped the burning out, wiped the blood off my face and took a sigh of relief.

At the beginning of my career I used to kill because it was satisfying for me personally. But gradually I began to sense what Sithis really was. I was adjusting to the Void, like a musical instrument falls into pace with the rest of orchestra. We were merging together like wind currents. Some piece of my soul was given wholly to Sithis now. He resided there, like a loving vulture, feeded by the pleasure I took from killings.

SSSHLING!

A fiery beam of magic hit the bed an inch off me. It was followed by more beams. The big yellowish crystal fused into the ceiling was the source of them.

"We’ll meet again soon, Bosmer?! Go to Void, Breton!" I skipped out of a beam’s way and it hit Ellius’ body. “I’ll stay here in the world of mortals for a while, thank you very much!”

I had heard of similar things, but they were in Ayleid ruins, not in the middle of Imperial City! The beams set Ellius’ room on fire. I flounced around trying to find a way to escape. The door was blocked by raging flames. I threw up a big window. There were no trees or ledge to fasten onto, so my only option was to jump. The upcoming fire ousted the last of hesitations.

The flowerbed broke my fall, but thirty two feet are nothing to sneeze at. I slowly stood up, aching in all the limbs and loins. My left hand, burnt already, didn’t survive the dainteth descent: the wrist hung in a manner of sad stump and responded in nothing, but sharp pain.

The house was blazing. I made every possible effort to get away as fast and far as I could; the wrist would have to wait.

Jhimes, my Redguard assistant since the first contract, was at the ready. I liked him. Never poking and prying, never asking for more than I gave him, never giving up the job. It was the fifth time he helped me.  _Do others use any outside aid or am I the only such amateur?_

It was the first time muckered the bonus.

I had my hand healed on the way back to Cheydinhal. Meatball were going like blazes, I didn’t want to miss the twins’ Naming Day. As I was told, it was Argonian biennially celebration when they praise Hist and their clan. As long as Ocheeva’s and Teinaava’s blood was disengaged with them now, we, Sisters and Brothers, adopted its role.

Everyone, except Lachance, was already there when I arrived. The ceremony was hidden and private, just for two of them, but the following feast must’ve been attended by all Brothers and Sisters. The traditional Argonian pie made of some Black Marsh cliff racer specie and cocuy, Argonian drink abridged for other races, were centerpieces. After two or three rouses I had the front to ask something I was making guesses about since I first had come to the Sanctuary.

"Ocheeva, by the way, how old are you?"

"Two hundred three tantas."

"Tantas?"

"Tanta is a month," said Teinaava.

_There’re twelve months months in a year. And that means…_

"You’re are seventeen?! Away on!" I always knew that she was younger than me, but - not seventeen! I couldn’t get my head around it.

"Ocheeva and Teinaava are the youngest and the most experienced assassins in this Sanctuary. Trained from the tender claws." said Vicente. “That’s the special... token of being a Shadowscale.”

"You’re too kind, Vicente." Teinaava screwed up his eyes.

"Lucien took us when we were sixty seven tantas. It is prohibited to wean Saxhleel from Hist before that," Ocheeva added.

"But how do Argonians live away from Hist, then?" I asked.

This time I actually put my foot in my mouth. _It’s all booze’s fault!_  Gogron gave me a puzzled look. M’raaj-Dar snicked.  _Saryn, congratulations, you’re an ignorant cretin._

"Dearest Sister," Ocheeva began. "We have Hist. Not what you prefer to call Hist trees, though."

"Excuse me!" I covered my face with hands. "There weren’t any Argonian families in my village."

"No offence taken, Sis! We understand.” Teinaava dished me another piece of the pie.

"It’s fine to admit you don’t know something." Ocheeva said. Really, Ocheeva in her teens was wiser than almost twenty two years old me.

"At least, you didn’t think M’raaj-Dar was Alfiq. I did!” Telaendril giggled.

I liked talking to Telaendril. Unlike me, she was a pure-blooded bosmer and after a while she confided me secrets my parents would’ve never told me. Our kin’s secrets. The Wild Hunt. The Enemy Feast, Boiche Naga. Some rituals I had never thought even existed, like Spriggan taming or making an everlasting bond with any creature. The ancient Bosmeri traditions and practices controlled life itself, the essence of vitality. It wasn’t some kind of necromancy or alteration, no, just genuine dash. But the Cougar family was always trying to be more Cyrodiilic than Valenwoodish.

_Alright. I’ve already embarrassed myself. Let’s go the limit._

"When are we going to have a new entry?" That was another tormenting question.

"When one of us is gone," answered Antoinetta.

"Like… dying?"  _Holy shit! I’m a substitute for a dead Sibling! We all are!_ Notwithstanding it was obvious, I still felt uneasy.

"No, like living!" M’raaj-Dar jeered.

"Nancy, you took place that had been occupied by Ramu Telvanni. He was taken by the Black Hand as the most outstanding," said Vicente.

"Taken? What do you mean ‘taken’? Where is he now?"

"Not here. He has never visited the Sanctuary for the last year and a half."

"Is he alright?"

"He sure is!" Gogron thundered. "You should’ve seen him! What a savant! Few of our lot die out of old age, but he will be one of them."  _Well, if Gogron gives so much credit for a mage, he must be really a genius._

"And we will." Telaendril pecked him on the cheek.

"Please, get a room!" M’raaj-Dar grouched.

These two charged the air around them with a veil of affection. To think assassins could love so devotedly. That gave some hope even to me.

Sometimes I was wandering why I couldn’t fall in love with anyone. I fell in so-called love when I was young several times, but was always cast-off. As for those who liked me, they weren’t good enough. Was I afraid of love? I don’t know, I mean, I envied happy couples (not in a bad way), like Telaendril and Gogron. I wanted to love someone! But all the same it seemed so boring. They, what, go out together? They are planning a family? Marriage, kids? Oh Sithis save the mark. I wanted something exquisite and quirky. “Their eyes met and she melted.” Excuse me? Eww, no way.

And then there’s the Brotherhood issue. I wasn’t sure it would be wise to make any close relationships outside the Brotherhood now. First of all, a question of safety. I didn’t want to fall for someone only to have him or her killed by the next new moon. Second, a question of my safety. Would I live through another contract? Not that I was fine with dying, but when you have someone to live for it’s more complicated to take risks.

I was wandering what it is to have sex with someone you love.

I looked at my reflection in the goblet.  _What a miserable sight._  Most of the time I’m in a good trim, but sometimes this avalanche of self-hatred crushes upon me. And my belly ached to boot. I filled my goblet once again and quietly left the rejoicings.

There was no one the Living Quarters.  _If I can’t have fun, I’ll clew the Scales._

The Scales of Pitiless Justice were corrupted by my skilful hands. I set to repairing, trying to focus on fragile scraps of metal in my hands. The sudden bang of the doors made me flinch. A screw dropped from my hands.  _Damn,_   _why am I such a pea-goose?_

The screw was nowhere to be seen. In attempts to find it in I crawled under the bed.

"Schemer, Schemer, come here, boy, I brought you dead vipers.”

I crumpled.  _Oh no. Of all people – why you?_  “Are you sleeping under that bed again?" It was true. Schemer liked to sleep under my bed, indeed.

Suddenly a great and not the most appropriate idea came to my mind.  _Is scaring a Speaker considered as breaking the Tenets?_  I was too drunk to care. I scratched the floor.

"Get out of there, Schemer."

I cautiously crawled closer to the bed’s edge. Lachance’s legs were right in front of it.  _I HAVE TO GRAB THEM._ It was difficult to restrain myself from laughter.  _No. That would be too much._ He started to bend. I starkly straighten and thrust all my limbs before he had a chance to see what’s hiding beneath the bed.

Come to think of it, this ‘deed’ was all the same a little too much even without grabbing. You don’t usually act like a halfwit with your boss. But I was sotted and sad. Would that count as an excuse?

However Lachance failed to amuse me. He merely stepped back, sat on the opposite bed, leant forward and said, ”Ah, it is you, Saryn?”  _Saryn. No one calls me Saryn, ‘sept Meg, your jerk! It’s Nancy for you!_ ”Why am I not even surprised? What are you doing?” He put the vipers on a bed table beside.

“It’s just …” I was annoyed that he called me Saryn, that my mischief didn’t manage, that I was such a childish ditherer, that he saw me in this condition, that made a fool of myself asking stupid questions before. But there was no point in lying to him. “I fucked up the scales Vicente had given me.” A little bitterness peeped up on the tip of my tongue. It felt wrong to swear in front of him. Well, beneath him. I was still sprawled on the floor. “I mean I lost my scales and thought that these ones might actually come in handy. And,” I sighed, “now the scale pan is smelted by fire salts I was brilliant enough to use. That’s why I took it to pieces to replace it with a new pan. And the main screw got lost! I was looking for it under the bed when you came in.”

“And you decided to surprise me?” He slightly raised the eyebrows in a lofty way. Although in a varying degree his every movement was lofty. It was irritating and appealing in the same time.

“If you can put it this way …”

“Nice trick, Saryn.” Lachance looked at me disapprovingly.  _I bet now he’s wishing he hasn’t recruited me._  “There it is, right next to the right bed leg.” He pointed at the little copper screw hidden between the leg and a stone slab.

“Oh, thank you!” Nearly hitting the bed slats, I reached for the screw and got up.

He took view of the Quarters. "I used to sleep on this bed, you know.”  _Is it some confession time or what? Maybe he’s elevated, too?_

"Oh, is that so? It’s Antuanette’s now. I shall tell her, she’ll be thrilled."

"I forbid. If you do so, I will tell Vicente about the scales."

“No!” I pled.

“Then we have a deal.”

I laughed.  _He’s certainly had his share of cocuy._  “Deal.”


	11. The Big Hand

**The Cure – The Big Hand**

 

Adamus Phillida was surpsisingly easy to eliminate. I mean I had more problems with Rufio then with the former Legion Commander followed by a protection officer. The Legion mongrels in the City were rather nonchalant, too, especially the new Commander: Giovanni Civello. Quite poor substitute for Phillida. I put the rotten finger into his desk while he was still in the same room with me. And he didn't notice a thing!

Ocheeva greeted me with a decent amount of gold and a words of praise. I just had enough time to put boots to the fire and doze off, when she shook my shoulder. "Sister, please, wake up. It is quite urgent. A sealed letter just arrived from the Dark Brotherhood courier. I recognize this type of parcel. It contains sealed orders. It is addressed to you. From Lucien Lachance. You must open this sealed orders immediately and  follow the instructions to the letter. It would seem the Black Hand itself has a task for you." She carefully put the letter of the bed and promptly left the Living Quarters. 

_Well now, a_ _letter from no other than Lucien Lachance himself._

I came to the fire, sat on the rug and cut the envelop.  '...the rate of your advancement has been rather remarkable...' '...your special assignment...' '...the importance of your swift arrival at Fort Farragut...'

_Oh man, seriously? Right now? The storm has been raging for three days and is still on the loose._

I thought of our brief encounter that had happened about a month ago. Even though Lachance was pretentious (take a look at the letter, for example; "my private sanctum" -  that's a fucking laugh), he still was rather likable. And he helped me with Scales. For that I was grateful. When I recomposed the Scales, he effortlessly made them flame proof by a dint of some spell, then rejoined the others, but shortly left the Sanctuary afterwards. It was clear that he was lofty and arrogant, buy I have always preferred people who are aware of their worth over shy and unassertive. Long story short, I was looking forward to meet him again. But not while it was raining cats and dogs.

Farragut was relatively close to Cheydinhal. I have never been that far to the east, but it was marked on a big map we had in the Sanctuary. The locals paid no visits to the fort, for it was devastated long ago. More than that, none of adventurers who managed to get inside over the recent years came back. That wasn't very reassuring, considering my luck and melee skills. 

_Denizens, right? I count the moments._

The summer rain was warm, albeit heavy. I didn't spur Meatball on the greasy uphill road. Ever since the Crisis had started the strange weather was striving to Tamriel. No one was surpised because of Sun's Dawn as hot as Second Seed or a rain lasting for a fortnight. But by the time I approached the fort, dim rays of longed-for sun pierced through the clouds.

Strangely, but there was not a slightest smell of fust inside. Lachance's 'denizens', charmed bodies of those mavericks, I suppose, were more scary than dangerous. But the fort itself was a real mertrap. It seemed I discharged every damn snare in that ancient ruins.

Surrounded by unsteady light of candles and torches, Lachance was standing in the middle of a big round room.

"I have been waiting for you, Saryn." 

_And again this name. Considering the clatter I have made it was hard not to wait for me._

He was in full dress, as always. 

_Is this cloak even comfortable?_

"Greetings, Brother." I shortly bowed. Lachance nodded back.

"We have not spoken duly during our last conversation, but I am well aware of your accomplishments within the Dark Brotherhood. That is why I have sent for you. I'm afraid there is a... situation." 

"Yes?"  _Oh, it's so not gonna be good._ My joy because of our meeting took wings on the sly.

"The time has come to test both your skill and your loyalty to Sithis. The Black Hand has learned that the Dark Brotherhood has been infiltrated. By whom, and for what purpose, we do not yet know. What we do know is that there is some link between the traitor and the Cheydinhal Sanctuary. The traitor has tainted that place beyond repair. It was learned that the traitor has been active for quite some time, since before you joined the Brotherhood. That absolves you of any suspicion."

"Excuse me?" I forced an awkward smile. 

_The more I hear, the less I like it._

"Listen well, child of Sithis. You have been chosen to perform the ancient rite known as Purification.  Everyone inside the Sanctuary must die." 

_Sorry?_

"You must break one of the Tenets you have sworn to uphold. I know, this is an unexpected turn of events," he smothered a sharp sigh, "but drastic measures must be taken. Ocheeva, Vicente Valtieri, Antoinetta Marie, Gogron gro-Bolmog, Telaendril, M’raaj-Dar and Teinaava, “he carefully pronounced every name. “All of these family members must die! From this point forward, you are no longer bound by the Five Tenets! Sithis will forgive any murder, any theft, so long as you serve the Black Hand.”

The smoothness of Lachance's speech suggested some kind of rehearsal.  He was so calm and focused, speaking all that bullshit. I had never heard any deadman speaking, but he sounded like one. It was his usual quasi-seductive melodies, but they were so hollow. As if was he already in the Void. I receded. 

“What? Are you drunk again?”

"The Dark Brotherhood is an ancient organization. We have survived for a millenia. Sometimes, to ensure that survival, drastic measures are required. The Purification is one of the most extreme measures we are forced to carry out. Indeed, it has only been carried out ... "

"Are you out of you mind?"

" ... twice. Before now, that is." Lachance allegedly didn't hear me. "The Five Tenets are the laws that guide and protect us. But, sometimes, even they must be broken to protect the sanctity of our beliefs. With a Purification, we cleanse the Dark Brotherhood of mistrust and treachery." 

_What is happening?_

 "Those who are slain are offered to Sithis as a symbol of fealty. And, hopefully, we kill the traitor in the process. Until the Purification is complete, no given Sanctuary will ever be considered secure.”

“Hopefully?  _We_  kill? Why don’t you accompany me, then?” My voice became high-pitched. “An unexpected turn of events! Oh, how quaint!” I flung my arms up, “Drastic measures!” I gave a hysterical laughter, “Too drastic, don’t you think?!”

I plopped down on his bed, hunched up, and buried my face in hands. This was too absurd to be true.

“No. I can’t. I can’t do it. No.” Tears were running down my face. 

_How can he ask me to do this?!_

“Not Vicente. Not Telaendril. No. Please. I won’t. I refuse. No, please." My voice struggled through ugly sobs. "Not any others of them. Please, Brother, don’t make me do it. I can’t, I just can’t. No.”

"The Purification is an irrevocable decision."

"If you want them killed, kill them yourself!" I barked. "I refuse! Why me?!"

"The Black Hand has made its command clear." Lachance fixed me with a look.

I gazed up at him, paralyzed with shock.  _He_ was the Black Hand! Lachance's face was still. They were his family, too! I remember him joshing with Vicente like they were old war buddies, gently ignoring desperate Antuanetta’s flirting, quiet, yet pelting quarrels with Ocheeva, always behind the doors of her chambers. And now this.

"But they can't be traitors! None of them! Don't you understand?!" I hit the bed with a fist. "No longer bound by the Tenets? Well, good! The Third Tenet can go to Oblivion!"

"Don't make me resort to penance, Sister." 

_Just look at this personnel selection master! Did he expect me to strongly agree with him or what?_

"And now you are... Now you are threatening me?!" The indignation made my tongue incoherent. "Don't make me execute the Purification! Please." I looked straight into his eyes. "Brother. Speaker. Listen to me." I begged. "You're asking for too much and you know this." Lachance poured something into a cup, shoved it into my hands and returned to the place he was standing.

"Take you time. Use your intelligence."

I felt deaf and crippled. I tried to say something, but no sound came from my mouth. 

_Family. They, we are family. He is family._

I have never known such close bond with anyone since Meg died. 

_However, do I have any excuse to disbelieve him? Surely the Black Hand must have its reasons ... What if I kill them now? They’ll be dead. And I won’t have a pleasure of their company. I don't want them to suffer. Bow. I should use bow and arrows ... No, screw it! I am not going to kill them! What if I flee? Someone else will kill them AND me. What if I tell them about Purification? It will just help the traitor to escape from justice, plus they will die, plus I’ll die. Embark for Sithis. Sithis! The Void waits for all of us one way or another. It is unavoidable. But why should Brothers and Sisters avoid it? It's the traitor who's the last one to wish to end up there! And the loyal Children will unite with their Father._

Perhaps all these painful thoughts were clearly seen on face, because Lachance was watching me with aloof curiosity.

"So be it," I finally uttered.

He nodded approvingly. "When the rite of Purification has been completed, return to me here at Fort Farragut, and we will discuss your future. Now, take these special gifts. They will help you greatly. One is a poisoned apple. The other, a unique scroll of summoning. The apple has been treated with a most deadly poison. It will likely kill whomever eats it, probably instantly. And you, of course, recall Rufio, the feeble old man I sent you to kill when we first met? He was weak in life, but his spirit is quite angry in death. The scroll will allow you to call upon Rufio’s ghost for assistance. He will appear, unleash his anger upon your foes, and then disperse."

I reluctantly took the scroll and the apple and put them into the knapsack.

"Make haste! The Sactuary must be Purified, if this treachery is to be undone! Use this  trap door to leave the fort. Good luck... Silencer."


	12. Red Rain

**Peter Gabriel – Red Rain**

 

"What you have done here today is foul beyond measure and you will grow to regret it, for the lives of gods are not what mortals think and matters that weigh only years to mortals weigh on gods forever. This is the fate you chose, and all your kind would share in their fate from now to the end of time. May your skin turn ashen and your eyes turn fire! Let this mark remind you of your true selves who, like ghouls, fed on the nobility, heroism, and trust of their king. My champion, Nerevar, true to his oath, would return to punish you make and sure such profane knowledge might never again be used to mock and defy the will of the gods!" And the Dunmeri woman, dressed in flowing garments and a circlet of flowers, pointed at three ochre-painted actors.  _Overplaying.  
_

After the victory of the count's son, Farwil Indarys, over the daedra, the neverendring revels in his honour filled daily routine of Cheydinalers. Jesters, musicians and minstrels of all kinds came to the city in flocks. The boy needs to be praised, you see. He deserved it.

"My friends, my dearest friends turned foes and traitors!" Ghostly Nerevar wailed, sheltered behind seminude Azura. My blood ran cold and I rushed away from the stage and a little crowd of spectators.

I couldn't bring myself to return to the Sanctuary, so I fell to aimless lousing around, feeling worse with every passing minute. _I agreed to massacre them. I will have to go there eventually. Someone is to blame. Someone is responsible for the deaths. Not me. Not even him._  Besides having no wish of eliminating everyone, I had big doubts that I would be able to do it all. Gradually I was surrending to our doom. I even started to make some sort of plans. The bow seemed the only option. _I will shoot them one by one, when they leave the Sanctuary. But not in Cheydinhal. Killing them from afar seemed more or less bearable, but searching through their bodies to cover up any tracks of their affiliation with Brotherhood..._

The delicious smell of raw pork meat chased my nose. I reflexively turned to the source of it and saw Gogron. Oh, great, just fucking perfect. Thanks, fate, you bitch, for the marvellous coincidence.

"Isn't it little Nancy?" A big boar was hanging from his shoulder. We were not supposed to talk outside the Sanctuary, not in Cheydinhal, at least. But Gogron couldn't care less.  _Oh Gogron._ My heart ached. "What are you doing here? Enjoying the party, eh?"

"In a manner of speaking." I squeaked.  _Are you the traitor?_

Of course, I had no other choice then to accompany him to the Sanctuary. I didn't want to look suspicious. Gogron threw the boar's carcass down the well and followed it with a loud thump. I hesitantly climbed down, too.

"Ah, Sister, you're here!" Just the moment I was about to go the kitchen and help Gogron with butchering (well, excuse me, who's the natural-born hunter here?), Vicente gently took me by the arm. "Excellent. I need to talk you. Please, come."

"And hello to you, too, Brother." I tried to sound sarcastically. Vicente gave me a wisp of a smile.

The situation was out of control. _What do you want with me, Brother?_ Our steps echoed in the dungeons as we walked to his chamber. It seemed no one was around.  _They fled from me._ Vicente shut the doors behind him and passed the hand across them.  _He knows. He knows._

"Perhaps, you have any questions? You can speak freely, the spell won't let any noise escape the room." His susurrant voice sounded almost reassuring.

"Brother, I..." The voice was stuck in my throat.  _I have to kill you._

Vicente gave me a lingering look. I could barely breath. Not only I had no wish to kill him and was absolutely sure he was not the traitor, Vicente was the strongest. Talented swordsman in life, he became unbeatable in afterlife. I didn't stand a chance against him in melee.

"Well, you are here, hence the Black Hand has decided against us." Vicente traced his finger over a red apple on his table. "He gave you one of these, didn't he?" I nodded slightly, ready to spring back at any moment. The hunt began. "Don't be so tense."

"Sithis knows I do not want to do it."

"Sithis knows and so do I." He tapped his finger on the apple. "I remember what you confidentially told me after the Valen Dreth contract. That you wish it was the first and the last time you kill someone you know." I swallowed. He got to the heart of a subject. "And now you are here." The pauses between the sentences were longer and longer. "It was expected. Trust in Hand's wisdom. Truth be told, even I don't know who is the real traitor." He nudged away the apple and it fell to the floor. "You have great severities ahead of you. As for me, I am not afraid to die." He held out a knife, just like the one he used to cut the fruit, only paler. "Sithis calls."

"What are you talking about?!" I almost jerked to knock the knife from his hand. It would be so much easier to give him a fair fight and be killed than to overcome these last respects!

"Am I living now?" Vicente pressed his thumb against the knife's blade. No blood came, just the reek of roasted carrion.  _Why, why are you doing this to me?_

"Vicente, stop it!"

"Be brave!" Tunes of irritation appeared in his voice. "I don't believe you were chosen be the Black Hand for nothing."  _Again. It is happening again. I'm about to let everyone down because of my cowardice._  "Use silver. Come on, take it."

My hands were trembling.  _I must finish him with the one strike._

"Brother, I am so sorry."

***

Blood was everywhere. I found myself lying in the pool of blood. My head was aching dreadfuly. _Is it all my blood?_ Some of the blood was definitely mine. I checked the ground zero of the pain on my head and fumbled a bloodcrust near the left temple. Everything around me was fuzzy. I noticed Gogron's body sprawled a few feet beside me.  _Ah, now I remember._ Vicente volunteered in a certain sense, but Gogron… I overrated my strength and thrusted a dagger not deep enough to kill him in a crack. It occurred he was wearing some detecting life trinket, so my invisibity was useless.  _No magic tricks with you, huh? Enchanted rings, holey moley._  I revealed myself and summoned poor old Rufio.  _You little big cheater. Maybe you were the traitor? Knocked me out with his bare fist, you mother fucker!_  Guess I was lucky the ghost were powerful enough to finish the orc.  _But how could a ghost cause so much bloodloss? Oh, whatever. How long have I been here?_

I tottered to the Living Chambers and washed away all the blood. The head was pulsing with pain. Bam, boom, bam - maul to your scull, Saryn. But I deserved more. I was squelched by not even guilt, but self-abhorrence.  _Drink. Water, wine, whatever._ Little by little my thoughts were clarifying. I daubed the bruise with cooling ointment and put a bandage on. _What now? The others. My Brothers, my Sisters... And the traitor. Or maybe just Brothers and Sisters._

It was odd to forage among Vicente's papers. Especially given the fact that he was lying just a couple of feet away. Well, not him. Turned out vampires literally crumble to dust. And I would've never disrespected his belongings like these, but I needed to know the locations of the others.

"Please, forgive me." Such loyalty is way beyond my reach. Maybe it was somewhat good that my head was aching so hard: it gave no opportunity to cry.

Seemingly neat, the records were a real mess. Past contracts, accounting lists, some notes ... My eyes stumbled upon the word "traitor".

" _Brother,_  
The traitor problem is getting more dire with each passing day. Two Sanctuaries fell under suspicion of Black Hand: Kvatch and Cheydinhal. I beg you to be most careful while speaking to Arquen and even more while speaking to Alval.  
The supplies for the research will be delivered before the month is out.

 _L_ "

"L? L, really? Now that's sweet! And what's with the research?" I continued my search, but less hastily.

" _Vicente,  
The Hand requires your presence at the next Gathering._

 _Ungolim_ "

"Who's Ungolim? That's Bosmer's name, right?" I had no idea why I was saying it all out loud. There was no one but Schemer.

The next scroll looked much older than any other papers.

" _Crimson Scars are eliminated on the 26's of Rain's Hand. All but Greywyn are dead._ "

And a single word added by Vicente himself: " _Farewell_." I had no idea what's that supposed to mean.  _Must ask Lachance later._ Right beneath this strange message I saw the letter that wasn't addressed to Vicente.

" _Ocheeva,_  
A new Dark Sister will soon join our ranks. She will be coming in about two months. Sarynancy Cougar is her name, and she may seem vehement to some extent. Her skill is yet to be developed, so do not assign her with operose contracts at first.  
  
Lucien"

"Vehement? Well, thanks a lot!" I folded the letter and put it in my inner pocket. 'Two months' - that must mean he wrote it just after our first meeting. I couldn't understand whether I liked or disliked his certainty of my consent. But his doubts about my skills were straightly offensive. I was hunting since I was a kid! My eyes were not supposed to see this, anyway. Or they were? After all, Vicente was apprehending this situation. That would at least explain why I coudn't find any recent contracts.

The needed papers were hidden in the chest next to the door. Five yellowish sheets and a little note.

" _Defer no time, delays have dangerous ends._ "


End file.
